The Captain and the Commodore
by Mercury Gray
Summary: On a trip across the Caribbean, Commodore James Norrington falls in with another pirate...and unwittingly falls in love. Much hiliarity and more adventures ensue!
1. Captain Meredith Lords

Okay...so I'm being a lazy bum with "Meaning and Mystery of the Rose" I apologize profusely. To make amends, I present you, my readers, with a small multi chapter fic that has been sitting, unposted, within my vaults.

Read, enjoy, and for god's sakes, please tell me if you want the rest of it.

Dedicated to Angoliel, without whose help this fic would not have come into being. I love you lots, big sis.

* * *

Commodore James Norrington paced the deck of the HMS Defiant, brooding. Why did he have to be called away from Port Royal to accompany a Cardinal to the Spanish colony in Panama? Why couldn't somebody else, a lesser ranking officer, perhaps, be spared from deskwork to do it? But orders from the Admiralty weren't to be taken lightly, and the Commodore was a man who put his country, and his job, first. Always, and without question.

"May I join you, Commodore?"

Norrington spun on his heel to see the Cardinal D'Auberge. He nodded, and the older man came to stand beside him, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Ah...the sea. It is so calm, so serene. We have been having good weather, Commodore, have we not?" The Cardinal asked with a slight grin. Norrington nodded.

"You didn't come up here to talk to me about the weather, did you, Cardinal D'Auberge?"

The cardinal chuckled and nodded. "No...I can up here to talk to you about the pirates in this area. There are some still in these waters?"

"Yes, unfortunately." The Commodore said, a note of intense dislike in his voice. Cardinal D'Auberge smiled.

"I take it you dislike them, Commodore?"

"Intensely, Cardinal, as any man of the Royal Navy will tell you. They're ruthless people, no better then thieves. I intend to see to it that every man who calls himself pirate or associates with them be tried and hanged."

"And have you personally met any of these pirates, Commodore?" The cardinal asked pensively. Norrington frowned.

"Regrettably, yes. Several times too many for my tastes...and he escaped the gallows, too." Norrington said with a frown. He turned to the Cardinal. "Do you have a need to meet one, Cardinal?"

"No...I only thought that I saw something on the horizon, and thought it might perhaps be one of these pirates you intend to kill." The cardinal said with a shrug, like someone commenting on the weather. Norrington squinted, and saw, much to his displeasure, another ship drawing nearer to them.

"Mr. Canning, a spyglass, if you will." The midshipman ran for the requested glass, bringing it in its case and holding it out to the Commodore, who extended it, looking out at the dark shadow of a ship. Panning the glass, he tried to catch a glimpse of the flag, but the cloth was blowing against the mast, and he couldn't see the colors clearly. But it was no English flag, of that he was certain. And that meant one thing. He collapsed the spyglass after a moment, his face grim.

"Cardinal, I would ask you to go below and barricade yourself in your cabin-It seems we're about to meet those pirates." The Commodore handed the spyglass back to Midshipman Canning, who scuttled away to put it back in his cabin, and begin to shout orders.

"Prepare for engagement, guns at the ready! Bring her about, Mr. Ross." He took the Helmsman, who obliged immediately. Several minutes and a few hundred feet closer, trumpet sallied from the other ship.

"Who goes there?"

"His Majesty's Ship Defiant! Who asks?" One of the midshipmen shouted back.

"The vessel Archangel! Strike your colors!" rang back the other ship. The commodore looked grimly at the approaching vessel.

"Prepare to engage, and call to quarters, Mr. Canning. Mr. Ross, keep her steady. Run out the guns!" The Commodore shouted briskly, his hands clasped behind his back. "We're not going to strike those colors without a fight." He muttered under his breath. 

The familiar rumble of the wooden wheels of the cannons below decks seemed a little ominous today, as if they knew something bad would happen. More than a few nerve racking and arduous minutes later, the two ships sidled up to each other, and the guns rang out, accompanied by a splintering of wood and a large quantity of smoke.

When the smoke had cleared, the Commodore peered over the side to see a ragtag band of pirates staring back with smiles a mile wide.

"Marines, affix bayonets!" The captain of the royal marines shouted, and the ranks assembled on deck did so.

"Gents, you heard the captain! Over the side, you louts!" With a cry, the pirates jumped over to the ship, and the melee began. Pistols flared, sabers flashed and everywhere was filled with the smell of spent shot and the sound of clashing metal. The Commodore drew his sword, turning just in time to see a man, dressed all in black, his dark haired queued into a neat tail, jump over the side with a wolfish smile, his sword at the ready.

The two began to circle, and the Commodore studied his opponent, clearly a man of some rank due to his rather well tailored clothes. Blade met blade, and the Commodore silently vanquished every single bad thought about William Turner from his head; that blacksmith knew what he was doing when he had made this sword.

While on the main deck the battle raged without mercy, on the forecastle the commodore and the man in black paid little attention to what was happening below them until the trumpeter of the Defiant sounded the surrender. The Commodore put his blade down to look at the trumpeter, who had a pistol cocked to his head and looked very much in fear for his life. He sighed, and sheathed his sword.

"Mr. Canning! Strike the colors." he said, in a tried and defeated voice. The midshipman scuttled up the mast to retrieve the flag, and then came back down, holding the Union Jack as though he had lost an old friend. He handed it to the man in black, who, with a noblesse air, bowed and bore them away to his ship, handing them off to the person who came out of the cabin.

It was a woman, attired in a pair of worn brown boots and a long canvas skirt, belted at the middle with a bright red scarf, topped with a man's white shirt. On her head she wore a red kerchief over long dark black hair. She took the flag and raised it above her head in triumph, emitting a roar echoed by the crew.

"Mr. Finnerty, see that the crew of the Defiant makes it aboard and into the cells. Mr. Locksleaigh, make certain the passengers are also aboard." The woman said after the shouting had calmed down. The men scurried off to do as she wished, while the others went below to search for anything that might prove valuable at the next port.

"May I ask what you are doing, Madam?" The commodore asked, disgusted that these men weren't following the captain's orders. She looked up at him, a look that meant all business on her face.

"I'm going to sink your ship, Commodore." She said matter-of-factly, her voice cold.

"With your permission, madam, I'd like to stay aboard, then."

The woman's eyebrows raised a little, but she said nothing. She turned to the man in black. "Nicholas, see to it that the Commodore makes it aboard. If he doesn't change his mind, change it for him and have him carried on." She looked up at the Commodore with a smirk. "Master Commodore, I don't really care to kill you today, so I'm not afraid to hit you over the head with a wrenching iron and carry you on like so much flour. Now, I would suggest taking the easier of the two routes, as it will not be detrimental to your pride."

Norrington's nose flared a bit as he held his anger in check and allowed himself to be escorted onto the ship by the man in black, whose name he now knew was Nicholas, and put in a cabin with the Cardinal.

"Are you happy now, Cardinal D'Auberge? You've met your pirates." Norrington snapped.

"I'm sure he couldn't be happier, Commodore." The two men turned to see the woman, standing in the doorway. The commodore frowned. "The Cardinal tells me you harbor a dislike for pirates, and I'm terribly sorry you'll have to spend the next few weeks with a whole ship full." She said with a smirk. "It's not often we have such elevated guests on our ship. Allow me to welcome you to the Archangel." She said with an extravagant flourish.

"It's a sad welcome, I'll give you that."

"You'll find our hospitality improves with your temperament, Commodore. I am Meredith Lords, the captain of this vessel, and this is Nicholas Fitzwalter, my first mate. I would ask, Commodore, that you exchange your dress suit for something a little...less military, as you have no rank here." She motioned inside the men behind her, who unceremoniously carted in the commodore and cardinal's trunks and left them on the floor.

"I expect you to join me for dinner tonight, Master..."

"Norrington." The commodore supplied.

"Master Norrington. It would be my explicit pleasure to dine with you." Captain Lords said with a smile.

"I'm sure the pleasure will be all yours." Norrington said icily. When she had gone, the Cardinal immediately went to his trunk, putting away the red skullcap and chain that showed his office. "Don't tell me you're actually liking all this, Cardinal?" Norrington asked, the edge off his voice. The cardinal looked up at him.

"Master Norrington, if I may take the liberty to call you that, once in a while it is good to be free from the straight lacings of society. Once, a man remarked that a ship, and the ocean itself, was freedom. Perhaps you should explore this on your little hiatus from military life." The cardinal finished with a smile.

Norrington shook his head and, after carefully setting aside his hat and wig, laid down for a nap.

* * *

Norrington did up the last button of his vest, adjusting the cravat of finely spun lace at his throat-even if he was dining in less than savory company, he would be doing so properly dressed. Slipping into his coat and setting his wig gingerly on his head, he closed the door behind him and went with the man waiting outside his door to go humor the female captain and take dinner with her.

The cabin of Captain Meredith Lords was awash with light, as well as the smell of freshly baked dinner rolls and roasted meat. The company stood as he entered, and Norrington cleared his throat a little nervously, sitting down next to the captain at the head of the table.

Meredith Lords presented a very different side of herself now; she wore a dress of deep green cloth, the tight bodice exposing a chaste bit of cleavage and a bronzed throat. Her skin wasn't the peerage white Elizabeth's was, but in the glow of the candles, her dark hair tidily brushed back, hanging down to her shoulders, she looked quite beautiful. James Norrington blinked once, and then looked down at his plate: Had he actually thought that?

His mind was too occupied with that thought to care to notice that one of the Captain's mates had proposed a toast.

"Master Norrington?" The captain asked softly, laying a hand on his. He started, and looked at her.

"Yes?"

"Nicholas has just proposed a toast." Meredith reminded him softly, her once commanding voice gentle, a reserved lady-like whisper.

"I am sorry...my mind was elsewhere." Norrington apologized, inspecting his goblet and finding nothing in it.

"Mr. Morris, Master Norrington has no wine. See to it that it is remedied." A man refilled his glass, and he raised it. Nicholas looked at him from the opposite end of the table.

"I was about to say 'To the continued good health of the Captain, and her honored guests." The first mate announced, holding his glass high.

The assembled raised their glasses with unison 'To the Captain' and took swigs of the wine.

"Captain, I compliment you on your wine. What vintage is it?" Norrington asked, taking a small sip to savor the taste.

"Ah, surely you recognize the taste of a good burgundy, Master Norrington. Nicholas, where did we pick this up?"

"Cartegena, I think. Off the...Gemini, that was it." Nicholas remarked, tasting the wine again with a small sip. Norrington gazed with newfound hatred at the goblet.

"Is it no longer to your tastes, Master Norrington?" The Captain inquired lightly.

"I don't drink stolen goods, Madam." The Commodore replied icily, getting up from the table and making to leave. The captain stood as well. James' hand had nearly reached the door when her voice rang over the now silent table.

"Tell me, Master Norrington, which one of our number did you meet up with that makes you despise us so, and what on earth did he do to you to incite this hate?"

Norrington turned back to the table slowly. "Captain Jack Sparrow, of the Black Pearl... He escaped me and the gallows twice, and made me lose one of the things I might have prized most."

"So this is over a woman, I presume?" Meredith asked with a straight face. The Commodore drew in a ragged breath.

"Yes." He said, his cheeks beginning to burn with the shame of the whole conversation.

"I assure you, Commodore, I like men much better, so I'm not going to be stealing your sweetheart. Now please, sit down." Captain Lords said, nearly pleading with him. Reluctantly, he took to his place again and pulled in his chair, waiting for everyone to stop staring at him. The captain cleared her throat with a look that told them all not to ask any questions, and they returned to their dinner like nothing had happened.

Through out dinner, the Commodore couldn't help but find himself glancing at the young captain and wondering how on earth a woman ended up captaining a vessel as big as this one.

During a lull in the conversation as dessert was being served, Norrington asked her just that.

"It is quite a bit of a story, Master Norrington, but...we have time. My great-great-grandfather was Geoffrey Thorpe, one of the Sea Hawks under Elizabeth the first. He was a privateer before the Spanish Armada attacked, and afterwards, was knighted for his gallantry on the seas and married a Spanish lady, Maria Alvarez de Cordoba.

He continued piracy after his marriage, but not before he'd built my great great grandmother a mansion on their own island. It's still standing there, if you'd care to know. So while he was out plundering the Spanish Main, she stayed home and raised their five children, of which my great-grandfather, Edward, was the oldest. When the time came for Geoffrey to retire, he passed the ship along to his son, who took up his father's place aboard the Albatross as captain. Edward met and wooed, with the charm that the men of my family are well known for, Giovanna di Carrizo, an Italian countess of some considerable means, spiriting her away from her family home in Corsica for their honeymoon to the house in the Caribbean that his father had built, and adding a new wing for his blushing new bride.

They had three children, the oldest of which, Augustine, met and married the daughter of a prosperous English merchant, Mary Christian, at the tender age of twenty while his father was still in command of the Albatross. The merchant father of Mary gave to him as her dowry the ship Bellerophon. They had six children, the oldest of which was my mother, Rose." She took a sip of her wine. "Am I boring you yet, Master Norrington?"

"Oh no...by all means, continue." Norrington said, intrigued, having forgotten his pie. Meredith put her glass down.

"Well, not having an oldest son to inherit, Augustine was faced with a bit of a dilemma and was tempted to give the Bellerophon to his fourth child, John, before Rose married another pirate, Philip Lords, the captain of the Archangel, which you are now traveling on. When I was born, they had wanted a boy to name after one of the archangels, and upon having me instead gave me the middle name Gabrielle. I've been raised on this ship; it's nearly part of my flesh and blood." She leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "Pirate is in my blood, Master Norrington...if you're seeking to reform me, you're several generations too late."

Norrington's lips curled into a smile. "I don't reform pirates, Captain...I hang them. Now, if you will excuse me...Gentlemen, Captain." He bowed to the rest of the table and left, leaving the rest of the table in a semi stunned silence. All eyes were on the captain, who was staring at the closed door.

"You all may go...Nicholas, I'd like to talk to you about our course to Panama." Meredith waved the rest of her dining companions out absently, still staring at the door, deep in thought.

* * *

One word- REVIEW! I'm not asking, I'm commanding.


	2. A Game of Chess

I'm glad to know you all think I'm not a total failure-the several reviews show you really do like me, and I like it when people like me.

So...chapter 2!

* * *

James Norrington woke up the next morning to a knocking on his door and a hoarse voice shouting at him.

"The Cap'n wants a word wiv you."

The Commodore rubbed sleep from his eyes and extricated himself from his sheets, searching through his trunk for a pair of clean breeches.

After he had dressed, the Commodore looked around for his wig. It had slid from the chair where he had set it last night, and was now in a corner, a pitiable ball of powdered horsehair and netting. The Commodore picked it up and looked at it forlornly. He'd have to settle for his own hair today.

* * *

His own dark hair now suitably queued back and his coat brushed, Norrington walked over to the Captain's quarters and tapped on the door with his knuckles. There was a muffled 'come in!' from inside, and the Commodore stepped in.

The captain was hunched over a table, her back to him. She was wearing a pair of black breeches that hugged her hips, accentuating the graceful curve there. It was all James could do not to stare at her. She straightened, and the Commodore shook his head.

"You look a great deal younger without your wig, Master Norrington." Meredith said, turning around when she had finished marking the chart she was looking over.

"Thank you for the compliment." Norrington said timidly, wondering what she had meant by it. "Why did you wish to speak to me?"

"Oh, actually...I wanted to know if you could play chess. We haven't got any other players besides Nicholas, and I already know I can beat him." She gestured to the intricately carved table, pulling out a seat. "Please, sit."

Reluctantly, Norrington sat, picking up a pawn and studying it. "Made in Spain, may I presume? I recognize the mark on the base." Norrington asked, pointing his little finger at the seal on the bottom of the piece.

Meredith nodded. "Yes...my father had it made specially for me. You will notice the queens wear tricorn hats?" she asked with a small laugh in her voice, handing him the piece; he looked at it and nodded with a smile. "Now, let us play." She moved a pawn forward, and the game began.

* * *

Two hours later, Commodore Norrington sat staring thoughtfully at the board, his jacket draped over the back of his chair and his cravat considerably loosened. Tentatively, he moved forward a castle, taking the pawn in front of it. Meredith gazed at the board, a smile on her face. Her fingers lingered over her queen, finally settling on a knight and moving him to take the last of the Commodore's bishops.

"Checkmate, I know." James said. Meredith looked triumphantly at him.

"You're quite good, Master Norrington."

"Thank you; you're quite good yourself, Captain."

"Enough with formalities...Meredith, please. You are my guest."

"Then if you are Meredith, I am James."

"James Norrington...a good strong name." The Captain said, getting up from her chair and fetching two glasses and a bottle of wine. "I apologize...this isn't the best vintage in our stores, but it is honest drink, bought and paid for out of my coffers."

"Then it shall serve as though it were the finest Madeira."

"Actually, it is Madeira." Meredith remarked, pouring the dark red wine into the glasses and handing one to him. "To our newly established comradeship."

James raised his glass and drank. "Now, Meredith, shall we have another game?"

"Certainly." Meredith said, setting her glass down and beginning to put the pieces back in their squares. Suddenly, there was a rumble outside, and the wine glass the Captain had just put down on the table crashed to the floor as the ship unexpectedly rolled to its side. Both of them stood up at the sound of breaking glass accompanied by another sound slightly more bass in color.

Looking at the window, they could see the sky, which had when they had started been a pure blue with fleecy clouds lazing by, was now iron cast gray, and the ship was beginning to toss with the wind fueled waves. "That would have been thunder." She said, jamming her hat on her head and hastily buttoning up her coat. Opening the door, she peered up at the sky, her eyes narrowed. Holding onto her hat, she went to the helm to check with Nicholas on the status of their ship.

James followed her out on deck, clinging to the railing. "What can I do?" He yelled, the wind whipping at his shirt.

"Norrington, I would suggest you go back to your cabin for the duration of the storm. And stay there!" She shouted over the wind howling in her ears. He simply stood on the deck, clinging to the railing. She glared at him, and gave the wheel back to Nicholas, walking over the pitching decks to push him back in his cabin. But the ship rolled violently to one side, and the next moment she was gone.

James stared for a moment, then rushed to the rail along with the rest of the crew still on deck.

"CAPTAIN OVERBOARD!" Norrington shouted at Nicholas at the helm. Not seeing the man respond, the Commodore whipped off his cravat and handed it to the nearest sailor before grabbing a length of rope and diving into the water.

"Devil's errand, that fools on." The man who held the fine, thin lace said, looking over the side at the white capped waves where Norrington had dived in.

"Shut yer traps, 'e's only trying to get the Cap'n back." The other next to him said with a dangerous look. "And God 'ave mercy on 'im if 'e doesn't." he added with a somber tone.

* * *

It was so hard to see underwater in this fast darkening sea, but Norrington could see the vague outline of a limp woman bobbing slowly down. Kicking just a little harder, he caught her hand and began to pull the both of them to the surface.

* * *

The men saw the rope tightening.

"'Ere, 'e's coming up! Pull lads! 'E's got Cap'n Lords!" Slowly, they began to haul the water heavy line in.

Slowly, the form of Norrington, the Captain over his shoulder, emerged from the water, trying to scrabble up the sides of the ship. He handed off the prone form of the Captain, but his hand slipped, and he plummeted back into the water.

No one else had noticed, though; they were all too busy staring at their Captain, choking up the half of the ocean she'd just swallowed. When she could speak, she asked.

"Who pulled me out?"

The hands turned to look at the railing, but saw no one there.

"For God's sake, you fools, pull him out! You'll keel haul him!" The Captain yelled angrily, watching the hands pull the soaking, seemingly lifeless form of the Commodore out of the water.

-/-/-/-

Again, I'm begging...reviews, please? _ puppy dog eyes _


	3. Salt in the Wound

Thank you to all the wonderful people who are trying to convince me my work isn't crap. I thank you-you do wonders for my self esteem.

Hrm...I never seem to put a disclaimer up here...but I think that's cause we all know I don't own POTC, Jack Davenport, or any/all of the original characters.

Heh...but if I did own Jack Davenport..._ Naughty thoughts >_

_

* * *

_

When the Commodore woke up, there was a burning sensation on his back. He remembered vaguely that he had saved the captain from drowning, but beyond that it was black.

There was a sharp sting on his back, and he arched in pain with a suppressed howl.

"You may scream all you like, James...these walls are thick." Meredith's laughing voice carried through his ears.

"God, woman, are you intent on killing me? What are you putting on that?" James winced and tried to keep his cursing to a minimum.

"It's saltwater, to cleanse the wound. Now hold still...I can't cover all of this if you keep squirming." She laid another seawater soaked rag over the bloody cuts on his back, and Norrington cringed, hugging the pillow that had formerly been under his head closer.

"Well, Captain, I will give it to-AHH!- you...you know how to wake a man up." James said through gritted teeth.

"I thought you might want some sleep, or I would have done this last night." Meredith replied, gingerly placing another one on. "You've gotten your first battle wound, I should think...or is this one?" she traced the faint scar on his shoulder. The Commodore frowned at the memory.

"I was ten, and my sister threw her tea cup at me after I said something a little callous about how one of her dolls had gone missing. It broke, and a shard cut my shoulder."

Meredith chuckled. "What did you say about the doll?" she asked, amused.

James laughed at the memory. "I said it had gone into privateering and was dangling from Hangman's dock." He winced again, biting back a howl of pain. "When will this be over?" He pleaded.

"I'm nearly done...but really, James, it's your own stupidity that won you this..." she paused, her fingers still on his back, warm and oddly reassuring. "Of course, you also saved my life." She added on an afterthought

"It was nothing, really." James reinforced, biting back another cry of pain.

"You're lucky it was just your back." Meredith chided, a note of laughter in her voice. James bit back a remark about how she would know, thinking the better of it.

"_Her opinion of me is low enough as it is...no need to go telling her about my past stupidity."_ He thought to himself. He smiled, thinking of how the carefully repressed and hidden 'Jamie' of his schoolboy days would have seduced the Captain right out of her breeches and into his bed with out a second thought.

_Yes...he would have goosed her yesterday in those breeches too,_ he thought to himself with a smile. But the smile quickly vanished. _I swore to myself long ago I was going to give up that life,_ he reminded himself, his expression sobering.

"There, I'm done. You were very brave, James." She whispered, her breath warm on his ear. "Very brave to rescue me, and very brave to sit here and have me rub salt in your wounds." She kissed his hair, and got up from his bunk.

"Just lie there for another several hours or so...I'll come back when I can."

"And what am I supposed to do till then?"

"Use your imagination." Her voice taunted him as she walked out. When the door had shut, he growled a little.

This woman flirted with him so!

* * *

James had let his guard down for five minutes, and now rebellious Jamie from his Academy days had peeked in the doors of his mind and taunted him, waving the memory of the Captain's kiss in front of him like a succulent pear, ripe and ready to pluck from the vine.

He had taken a nap, only to find his dreams haunted by imagined visions of the Captain, drawing him closer by the lapels of his coat and toying with the buttons of his vest, as though she were going to undress him.

He woke nearly in a cold sweat.

"Dammit, Jamie, why can't you leave me alone?" He murmured agitatedly to his pillow. The door creaked open, and James fell silent.

"James?" Meredith peered around the door. "Is someone else in here?"

"I'm still here. Alone." He said into his pillow, the result sounding a little muffled. Meredith laughed softly. Sitting down on the bed, she inspected his back with light fingers.

"It's healing nicely. You should be able to wear a shirt in a few days."

"And until then?" Norrington asked, not at all amused.

"You're confined to your bunk." Meredith finished severely. James twisted himself onto his elbow to glare at her. She glared back, daring him to challenge her authority and left.

The Commodore seethed. Confined to his bunk, on a ship full of pirates, with a female captain and a head full of memories he'd like to forget.

Could life get any worse?

* * *

_Alrighty, folks, that's a wrap. Now, I want to clarify something first- I'm not trying to make James a coward-I'm sure he has more scars. I just wanted to lighten the mood a little with the tea cup incident. It seemed funny at the time._

_Okay, Shoutouts...you like them, I like them...we all like them._

_Concetta-_See? He lives! And thank you so much for giving me your honest opinion.

_Roisin Dubh-_ Thanks. That description was one of my strokes of genius, I will admit. I love your comments, because you always find something I didn't want to fess up to doing. I will probably never fix it, but you can be proud you found it and weren't afraid to rub in in my face.

_Redangel97-_ see? Update. Thanks for the review-but next time, please say what you liked specifically.

_Terreis_- If I could, I'd give him to you...but I can't. Oh well. HOORAY FOR THE WIG BEING GONE! I liked that too. Don't worry...it'll all be gone in two more chapters. _evil grin>_  You know what i'm talking about...but i won't give away too much.

_Angoliel- massive huggles>_  You'll have to wait like everyone else, dear...

_Now-REVIEW, all of you! I command it._


	4. Contemplation

Haha! Chapter 4! It is here! _clapping from small circle of reviewers _

_I_ am so sorry for the wait! School, and then my play, and then boatloads of friend probs ...(not probs with friends, just problems of friends)

anyway. thanks for waiting for me.

Disclaimer: I think you know this as well as I do…see previous chapter.

* * *

After Meredith had judged his back had sufficiently healed, James was allowed to get up from bed, dress, and feed himself for the first time in what seemed to him like forever.

When he walked unsteadily out on deck into the noonday sun, his shirt untucked so as to rub his back as little as possible, and his hair far from as neat as he would like it to be, the crew seemed to stop everything and look at him in profound silence. But they did not glare, or frown-rather, now he seemed one of their fellows, a comrade at arms, and the looks they gave him were of the highest respect.

The crew went back to work, and James walked a little around the deck, giving a little small talk here and a greeting there, going back inside when he deemed he'd gotten enough sun for the day-and Meredith glared at him from the helm.

* * *

That night at dinner, he noted the demi-officers of the ship seemed more cordial to him; Nicolas' stern glare of disapproval seemed sufficiently curbed, and once, when the captain hadn't thought he could see her, he found Meredith looking at him wistfully and kneading the Portuguese lace of her napkin between her fingers in a nervous manner.

His eyes met hers, and for a moment James didn't see a pirate captain; he saw a demure, courtly lady, daughter of an affluent merchant, sitting and looking away as if in timid embarrassment, the man on whom her attentions lay having just noticed her affections.

And for that one brief shining moment, Commodore James Norrington wished that she wasn't aboard a pirate ship in the middle of the Caribbean filled with men who were loyal to the last, and she was that lady, because he could honestly say that he thought her loved her, too.

* * *

The Cardinal caught him the next day staring wistfully at Meredith, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, the careless command she gave the ship making her look an Amazon of the sea.

"I hope you realize the most precious treasure in Christendom is right under your nose, Commodore." The Cardinal said with a twinkle in his eye.

"I think I'm in denial, Cardinal. That, or I'm afraid of what will happen if I really have found this treasure." James said with a small smile. Cardinal D'Auberge chuckled.

"When the time is right you shall know." He counseled, leaving James on deck, staring out at the sea in contemplation.

* * *

"Well, this is it." Meredith took a hand off the ship's wheel to point out at the growing black line of land on the horizon. "Panama. Tomorrow we'll put ashore and send a long boat to deliver the Cardinal to the Cathedral. The next tide isn't for a few days, so…if you do not mind rooming with pirates a few days longer…" Meredith trailed off, glancing at the Commodore for confirmation of this idea.

James seemed to have lost a few pounds and more than a few years in the past several weeks since his accident; he helped the crew daily, returning to the tasks of a simple able-bodied sailor as opposed to the deskwork of a Commodore, and was developing a bronze to his skin. There were a few calluses on his hands, and his face, in the absence of his ramrod expression and white powered wig looked his thirty-four years instead of forty-three.

He nodded in affirmation of her question, and paused for a moment. "I should thank you, Captain, for your hospitality this trip…" he began, and Meredith laughed.

"It's not every day one captures a military man as charming as yourself, Master Norrington." Both of them were speechless for a moment, and Meredith turned away, embarrassed, as if she hadn't wanted the words to come out, and handed the wheel to Nicholas quickly.

James watched her walk away, closing the door to her cabin with a bang.

"She fancies you, y'know." The normally silent first mate said in an off hand sort of way. James looked at him, trying to gauge if he was sincere or not; he was. "She looks at you at dinner, while she's at the wheel…she's a fine woman, Master Norrington, with more dowry than you can shake a stick at, including this ship, and another besides. I'd think about it, Commodore…the Captain's heart, it isn't given easily, and the last man she fell in love with all about broke it in two." Nicholas said sagely, watching the horizon and going back to his stoic silence, leaving James to contemplate alone.

* * *

contemplation is a fun word.

So is REVIEW.


	5. Meditations

After a month long journey aboard the Archangel, it seemed like heaven to feel sand beneath his toes. It wasn't often the Commodore took off shoe and stocking to walk barefoot on the beach, but after a month of being civil to pirates, taking drink and food with them and sharing in a small adventure into the world of unlaced manners and free laughter, it didn't seem a crime to walk on the sand.

From his look out over the bay, James watched the crew tie up the longboat, and then walked down the beach a ways to stare out at the water.

He was far from calm, staring at the waves and watching the tide roll gently in. there were too many things going through his head. He wasn't sure if he loved the Captain…indeed, he wasn't quite sure of anything right now. He'd spent time aplenty with her, and he'd grown fond of her bluntness, her laugh, her commanding air. But she was a pirate, and the long and short of the matter was that they were sworn enemies, and ne'er the twain shall meet.

"_But you love her!_" shouted the younger part of his mind. _And besides, speaking from a rational perspective, you need a wife, Commodore_, interjected the logical part of his thinking.

James kneaded a stone back and forth through his hands, trying to collect his thoughts before looking spitefully at the rock and throwing it as hard as he could resentfully into the ocean, hearing it's resounding splash with annoyance.

Why did everything have to be so damned complicated! Why did Meredith have to tease him so? Why did he let her play with his heart?

"And why did I let myself fall in love with a pirate?" he asked quietly, walking back down the beach in a more foul mood than he had already been in.

He stopped in his tracks a little ways down the beach-the sun was close to setting, and the sky hinged on a pinkish orange. But more surprising than the brilliant sunset was the woman emerging like Venus from the water.

It was Meredith, still in her shirt and breeches, though now both were soaked through, and instead of hanging loosely and hiding the feminine curves of her breasts, her shirt now clung to them.

James was taken aback. He'd known Meredith was a woman, but she didn't act it or look it, for that matter, all that often. James once again suppressed the youthful passioned self that screamed at him to forget decorum, strip her naked and make love on the beach.

He winced at the last thought, not wanting to know what the crew would do to him if they found him in the throws of passion with their captain, and closed his eyes tightly, looking away.

When he opened his eyes, she had rung out her hair and was about to unbutton her shirt. The Commodore quickly found the path back through the forest to the shirt before the temptation of her oh-so-kissable skin got too strong.

Sitting in his cabin, he silently berated himself for having let his heart rule his head.

"_But you must confess, James, it was fun while it lasted. Admit it, you liked having a dirty little secret."_ Whispered younger Jamie again, grinning at him from the depths of his head.

Leaning back and running a hand through his hair with a smile, James had to admit that he had.

* * *

hehe- i love mental anguish. it's so fun to write. so i dont' own it, i love you all, and i'm posting two chapters at once to make up for my not updating in forever.

Cheers!


	6. Love on a Boat

Haha! Chapter five. Don't own it.

Thank Ian for kicking me a few times and making me edit this.

General naughtiness ensues-some viewer discretion is advised. If you don't like your commodores extremely lusty, I'd advise you not to read this.

LET ME SAY THIS JUST ONE MORE TIME- THE MRA HAS ADVISED A RATING OF 'R' FOR THE FOLLOWING CONTENT.

_Pirates, ye be warned._

* * *

James turned around nervously on the veranda at the sound of footsteps. Meredith was standing there, a dress in the latest London fashion fitting her lithe frame well. Her already small waist was nipped in a little more, her throat bare, the neckline of her deep blue dress sweeping down to draw out a little more bosom that she normally let the world see. Norrington drew in a sharp breath; she wasn't making what he wanted to tell her any easier.

"You wanted to speak to me, Commodore?" she asked, her normally smiling face somewhat serious.

"I came to make an apology, Captain. When we first met, I assumed too much about you because you were a pirate, and a woman. Having spent considerable time with you, my opinions have changed, for I see now that either of those does not really matter. I have seen my less than favorable outlook on you change to much more favorable one." James paused, taking a ragged breath and looking out over the water.

"The end of our voyage throws into sharp relief the fact that you will be sailing me home soon, and I will endure another several weeks of your company. Forgive me if I seem forward, madam…but I find that, in light of this changed outlook, you have become… a fine woman in my eyes."

There, he'd said it. He breathed a little easier, and turned to look at Meredith, who smiled slightly.

"Commodore, is there something else you'd like to tell me?" At his silence, she drew closer. "If it was 'I think I love you' then I can only say that I return the sentiment." She studied his face. "You look very handsome without your wig, James." She said in a low voice, after a pause, drawing out his name.

James looked at her for a moment. He decided courtly manners weren't going to be any help here, and so dredged up a line from what seemed like a past life.

"I'm sure you look very beautiful without that dress on." He whispered to her, taking her hands and pulling her still closer, her bodice pressed against the buttons of his coat. Meredith smirked.

"Would care to test your theory, Commodore?" Again, she drawled the syllables over his title, drawing him on.

"You need only say I may, my Lady Pirate." Norrington said, brushing his fingers over her exposed throat. "I've always wanted to make love on a ship…" he mused, letting his fingers play over the curl of her dark hair she'd left unpinned. Meredith smiled at him, her hand pressed against his vest.

"Shall we away, Commodore?"

"Please, Meredith…it's James." He smiled at her, taking her hand firmly and leading her down the docks back to the ship.

When she had stepped on deck, Norrington picked her up like a bride about to cross the threshold of her new home and kicked open the door to her cabin, carrying her inside. She giggled as he set her down, waiting until he had closed the shutters.

When he turned back to her, she slowly took off her shoes and stockings, walking towards him quickly with bare feet and beginning to unbutton his vest, casting the coat onto a chair. Once she was done with the vest, it too went onto the chair, followed by his cravat. She untucked the shirt from his breeches and flung it aside and was about to take his breeches off too when Norrington stopped her hand.

"Ahahah…it's only fair I get a little fun before you finish with yours." He turned her around, unlacing the stays of her bodice with a practiced hand. The dress pooled at her ankles, and she turned away to unlace the corset by herself. James peered over her shoulder and his hands, which had been at her waist, moved up to help her. She kissed his chin, missing her mark on his cheek.

"How on earth did an unmarried Commodore get so good at undressing a woman? I don't think his experience was recently, or tongues at the fort would wag." She teased, taking the corset off.

"That, dear," he caught her hand and kissed her forefinger, "darling," a kiss for her middle finger, "beautiful Meredith, is a story for another time." James whispered in her ear, nipping it lightly with a kiss. This earned him a giggle, and she turned around, her hands dancing over the ties that held his breeches on. Her foot traveled over his leg, pulling down his stockings and pushing his shoes off his feet.

"And how on earth did an unmarried woman like yourself get to be so good at undressing a man?" James teased, smiling as he pressed her closer. Meredith chuckled.

"Oh, there have been a fair few who've taught me a few things…Were you expecting me to be a shy virgin?" She taunted, her nimble fingers brushing against his pants. James looked down at her hands and chuckled.

Soon, his pants joined the stockings, shoes, and other various articles of clothing on the floor, and Meredith looked him over a little before he took her in his arms and kissed her, hard. Her lips parted easily at the first touch of his tongue, and her hands tightened on his arms as he pressed her closer to notice the rising temperature of his skin.

"Any thing but shy…" James purred. When they parted, Meredith untied the ribbon that held his hair back and tossed it aside, pulling him closer to her bed. He pushed her down easily on to the soft mattress, loving the feel of her body beneath his.

He knelt at her feet, and kissed her ankles, tickling the sensitive skin of her feet and making her draw her knees up so that he could begin to remove the shift that stood between him and the prize he sought to take this night.

The shift came off with a few more kisses, an especially tempting string on her thigh and down into between her legs, his tongue earning a long, earnest moan from her as it explored between her thighs, several more around her navel, and then another string up her neck and nearly behind her head.

"Have we had enough yet, Captain?" James asked, his voice taunting. Meredith smirked.

"Must I tell you again, James…it's Meredith."

He sat back again to survey his bedmate, her skin white where the sun hadn't tanned it a golden glow, her black hair, now unrestrained, providing a sharp contrast. Her breasts were as perfect as he had supposed that morning three days past, and every inch of her screamed at him that she was nothing more or less than beautiful.

"No…no…Pirate Lady doesn't suit you at all." He said, shaking his head and pursing his lips. "You're without a doubt a Pirate Queen. A cheeky, brazen, bold Pirate queen…One I shall have to teach a lesson to." His hand moved behind her back, and he squeezed her rump, softly laughing as she bucked against him with a gasp at the touch of his hands on her buttock.

He wanted to kiss every inch of skin, letting his lips first gently suckle her breasts and his ears delight in her moans. She was too preoccupied with his tongue drawing abstract lines on her chest that she didn't notice his hand slip between her thighs until he was inside her, stroking her velvet.

Her eyes flew open with a gasp, her head snapping back and her hips stiffening beneath him, the muscles of her womanhood clenching with pleasure. He continued his stroking, kissing her neck with a new fervor as he felt her hands dig into his back.

"That's…new." She gasped, her nails hard on his skin. The Commodore smirked and went a little deeper. She moved to pull his hand out of her, but he pushed her hand aside.

"Not till I've finished, love." He taunted, letting her moan beneath him in delighted pain.

When he thought she had been pushed to her limit, his hand moved out, pulling her leg closer to him and capturing her lips again with hers. Her hand found his hip, snaking inside his drawers and resting there on his thigh. Her other hand found the same spot on his left leg, and the drawers began to remove themselves lower and lower down his legs with the help of her feet until Norrington kicked them aside, the garment sliding off the bed with a soft thump.

He sat back a little, studying her face, awash with desire and fervor for more. She smiled sadistically. "I have you right where I want you, Pirate Queen." He purred, his hands moving over her hips. She took a deep breath through her nose, steadying herself and nodded, her wild eyes alight with nothing more than zeal for what he was doing to her.

With one thrust, he was in her, and he began to pump her, her hips moving with his. Her hands on his arms clenched a little as he went deeper, harder, faster, but she couldn't raise her voice to do anything more than moan.

His thrusts became wilder, more savage as he neared his climax. Then he was there, and his fluid shot into her, and she moaned his name loudly, her entire body tense beneath him.

He stayed like that for a little, his heart pounding in his chest, finally pulling himself out of her, rolling onto the other side to regain a little of his breath. His hand found hers, and he clasped it, bringing her fingers and kissing them. She rolled over to cuddle next to him, her hand small on his chest.

"James…" she whispered almost inaudibly, her eyelids dropping. But she didn't finish- within minutes, she was fast asleep. James looked at her and smiled, kissing her hair, now damp with sweat.

--

James' eyes flew open at the hand that now gently caressed his manhood. It took a little to reorient himself, and realize that there was a woman sitting on his knees. The moon light from a crack in the shutters fell in through the window, illuminating her wolfish grin at his surprise.

Meredith's fingers stroked the now hardening length of the Commodore, delighting in his moan for her to stop. After hearing him moan her name again, she lay atop him, kissing his chest.

"What are you doing, woman?" Norrington asked, a little annoyed and more than a little fascinated at why he was being so rudely awoken at so odd an hour.

"Exacting revenge." Meredith said, suckling his nipple and probing his skin with her tongue, her hand pressed between her body and the slope of his muscles that lead to his loins. "An eye for an eye, and a moan," She wrapped her fingers around his manhood and stroked it again, earning a moan, "for a moan." She said, her eyes glittering like a cat's.

"You are the essence of sweet torment, Meredith." James remarked, as off handedly as he could without whimpering in pleasure. The pirate captain smiled seductively.

"Oh, you'll know torment before I'm through with you." Her hand around his cock tightened, and he whimpered again.

When she was satisfied with his whines for mercy, she straddled her legs over him, sitting on his thighs. Laying her hands by his shoulders, she looked over him, her nose inches from his.

When he felt he could, his unsteady hand went to touch her hair, hanging over his face as she grinned wolfishly down at him. She slapped it aside.

"Am I not the Captain of this vessel? You would do well to obey my orders…or there shall be no more mercy to your cries." She said, her eyes darkening. She lowered herself so she could kiss him, her teeth nipping at his lips. Her tongue caressed the top of his mouth, her teeth becoming more insistent as he tried to fight back.

Meredith drew on his bottom lip as she pulled away. "Mmm, I taste mutiny," she whispered dangerously. "I'll have to fix that right away" Her eyes glittered, and James became uneasy as to what would happen next.

Ever so slowly she made her way down his body, caressing his skin. James didn't dare look at her and instead caught his breath from the kiss, staring at the cross beams of the ceiling. It was immediately taken away from him when he felt her lips on his manhood. Closing his eyes, he moaned her name. She didn't pay any attention to his pleas.

Not only did she kiss, nip and lick his very needy member, she began to suck at it. "_Meredith!"_ he whimpered. She only laughed at him, and suckled more. James' eyes rolled back in his head and he grasped the sheets, wondering how much longer he could hold out. It couldn't be very much longer.

Finally, Norrington convulsed his release, and Meredith pulled away, making a great show of swallowing his seed and licking her lips. Climbing back over him, she smiled. "The mutiny has been stemmed," Meredith whispered with a hint of victory, kissing him. James could taste his own fluids on her lips. Lord, this woman was intoxicating!

Her eyes glittered as she looked at him, his face half masked in fear at what she'd do next and half in anticipation at what her new efforts would bring him. She lay atop him, covering him with her well-rounded curves. Her lips explored his skin again, her fingers tight against his shoulders as her lips greedily licked his neck.

Gradually, her fingers traveled down his abdomen, tracing the faint hairs on his chest, and James closed his eyes again, anticipating her hands on his member again. But her hands rested them selves on the insides of his thighs, massaging his upper legs. He could feel himself rising again, and Meredith smiled wickedly as she felt his stiffening length between her legs, straddled over his hips. But before she could impale herself upon him as he expected, she got up and knelt at the end of her bed, fixing him with a seductive glare, as though taunting him to just try to have his way with her.

James leaned back on his elbows, easing himself up in her bed. Why had she left him hanging like that? Oh, she was just kneeling there…and he was so sinfully needy of her!

With a growl, James launched himself at her, avariciously drinking in the wealth of her sweet lips. But she didn't push him away. She cradled his face, her tongue going deeper into his mouth. James' hands, which had been on her arms, moved to her waist, twisting her down to the bed so she lay beneath him again.

Without another thought, he began to push himself in her again, his thrusts stronger than before, as if he were the one quelling her rebellion. She rolled her hips, letting more of him in her, her hands clenching the bed sheets at his passion.

When he had finished, Meredith rolled on her side with a groan. "Enough of this-now sleep!

James chuckled, pulling her close. "My sentiments exactly, Pirate Queen." He murmered to her hair, settling in and closing his eyes.

--

clears throat A..hem…I'm not going to plea for reviews…we all need a little naughtiness once in a blue moon…you can all go fantasize now…


	7. Secrets Revealed

Chapter seven- my, I've been lazy with this one, haven't I?

Ian told me he isn't really the pirateing type, and this was one of the stories that got trapped in rollover from my 1-800 muse service to the personal muse, the aforementioned Ian. He had some trouble, but we worked through it.

* * *

When James awoke, it was to the realization that there was a large window in front of him and someone very warm and very feminine curled around his side, her hand on his chest.

"It's rather early." He said, sleepily.

"You're very observant, James." Meredith said, tucking her head under his chin. James kissed her head and whispered in her ear.

"Now, is that any way to say good morning?"

"Mm…Morning, James." Meredith said, snuggling closer with a sigh of content. "You're so strong." She murmured, stroking his chest. "James, you never answered my question." The captain of the Archangel said, sitting up.

The commodore looked up at her slyly. "Which one, Meredith? You asked such an awful lot of them."

Meredith rolled his eyes. "The one where I asked you how you came to know how to make love so beautifully." She said, kissing his cheek.

James licked his lips, not entirely sure if he wanted to answer that. "If you must know…I was rather the wild one in younger days. I ran around with a rough crowd at the Naval Academy, the wrong crowd for my father, a least. He was a wealthy merchant captain, wanted all his sons to go to sea. I never got on well with my father, and I was…less than as civil as a son should be to his father at times." He sighed, staring off at the ceiling. "When I was home last on leave I didn't speak to the man at all, and I didn't answer any of the countless letters he sent me afterwards. One day, the second half of the new term, I got a letter saying he had died. It only dawned on my conscience then how much I had alienated the man in the last years of his life.

So I promised myself I'd become what he wanted me to be. I gave up the drinking, the whoring, the rabble rousing, and the general lawlessness my father frowned on me for, and addicted myself to stuffy regulations and study." James finished sadly, looking at Meredith. "Which is who I am today. Hiding behind society's coat tails and powdered wigs."

Meredith smiled knowingly, sympathetic to the story of a man who was trying to hide from his true nature. "So I'm the first woman to unleash the tiger inside the Commodore Norrington? I'll feel honored." She said with a grin, fingering the sprinkling of curls on his chest. "That won't be the last time, either." She assured him, watching him for some sort of a reaction.

James Norrington was at a loss. She'd played too well into his hands. It was as if she could read his mind and know everything he said before he said it. She'd know this wasn't going to be a casual relationship. _Well,_ reasoned Jamie the ever unreasonable, _what have you got to loose?_

"Meredith, would you marry me?" James asked, sitting up in bed to look the captain straight in the face.

Meredith smiled. "A commodore of the royal navy, famed the Caribbean over for hating pirates with a passion, now wants to marry one?" She asked with a laugh. James' face fell.

"A simple no would have sufficed." He retorted sharply, getting up from the bed. Meredith caught his arm.

"James, I said last night I loved you. That hasn't changed. Why would I want to give up on you? You're brave, and passionate, and …you love me. That in itself is enough."

"So you will?" James hesitated, hopeful.

"Yes!" Meredith nearly squealed, pulling him back onto her bed and kissing him furiously.

Norrington let her kiss him, but he held back, thinking hard on something. Meredith noticed.

"What's wrong?" she asked, sitting back a little.

"You never answered my question, either." James hinted. Meredith deflated a little, and sighed, getting up from bed and finding a shirt to wear, pulling it over her head and sitting down again.

"Who made me a lover? His name was Antoine Geraine, he was the son of one of my father's French privateering friends, and he was young, attractive, and very interested in me. I was 18; my father had just given me the Archangel as a coming of age present. I met him at my father's house. Tall, blond, witty conversationalist in French and English, and he taught me a great many things in his bed. He broke this cabin in with me." Here the captain looked around with a slight annoyance, as if she could never forgive herself for being that stupid.

"We were engaged a little after that, but he went away so often, I decided I would follow him to France. It was a bad choice for me. I found him with his mistress- before we were even married." Meredith's shoulders slumped. "I wasn't good enough for him, even then. I forgave him for the mistress- what wife doesn't?- but before we were married? He seemed unconcerned about the whole affair, and then told me he expected me to be a nice wife who stayed at home and had children and kept house for him."

Meredith looked at James, sorry she had to let him hear her past stupidities. "As you can see, I broke off the engagement. Give up my ship, my freedom, for that? To be a man's toy, something he could pleasure on when he pleased? I threw a bottle of wine and his ring at him and left. As far as I've heard, he still has the scars." She finished with an air of triumph.

James looked a little wary now. "I have no mistress, if you're about to ask. And I would never ask you to give up your ship, however improper it is."

Meredith kissed him. "For you, James…I might just give it up. You love your work, and I wouldn't want to be between you and the law."

"I am the law- it would be a tight fit." James quipped, getting a laugh out of his now fiancée. "I wouldn't let them hang you."

"Others would see to it I'm hanged." Meredith said soberly. "No more talk of hangings. When the time comes we'll speak about that."

She got out of bed, fetching breeches and washing her face. When she raised her head from the wash basin to dry her face, James was behind her, still naked and in need of a shave. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rocked gently from side to side.

"How are we going to tell your crew about this?" he asked, whispering in her ear.

"Oh, they have heads. They'll figure it out eventually. Whispers will start. It's nothing." Meredith paused. "Now remove your hand from my person, commodore, or I shall have to punish you again." James' hand had been creeping up her undone shirt, and was caressing her breast. The captain spun around, facing him and looking over the still naked commodore. James withdrew, retreating back to bed to find his clothes.

"Hellcat." He whispered, getting a slap on his buttocks as Meredith walked past, going out on deck for a breath of fresh air.

* * *

heh, heh…fluffy next morning dialogue. I just wanted to fill in some gaps.

Review, please? _passes hat _


	8. The Homecoming

Goodness gracious, where did this story go?

The answer- I don't know. Ian just sort of let it…slip into the bottom of the to do pile, along with a lot of other things. And it's been sitting there for- egads, look at that date!- over a year. So I'm trying to resurrect it. And it will probably be with very sorry results.

* * *

The sail home from the Panamanian isthmus was, for James, the best sail home of his life. True, upon his return he would probably be court-martialed and more than likely, hanged, but he had finally found that most elusive of all earthy pleasures, love.

And didn't everyone else on board ship know it. It seemed that not a day went by that did not find one of the crew members chuckling softly when the commodore entered the cabin of their captain, and whispering ferociously when he left it. Somehow, however, this didn't matter. Finally, he would have a wife. And a very nonsensical one at that.

They were two sides of a paradox, but yet, as the crew very aptly noted, never was there a pair more suited to each other. Where one was bold, the other was reserved, and when one slipped, the other caught the fall.

As they drew nearer to home, however, James' high spirits began to weaken. The prospect of having to stand trial for the loss of the Defiant did not suit him entirely. The admiral of the West Indies Squadron would be called in, and with all due pomp and circumstance, he would be given his death sentence on a silver platter.

Not to mention the fact that Meredith would swing, too, for piracy and a various list of other offenses. Better to save her from that fate and face his own alone. He confronted her the next night over dinner; not wanting to look her straight in the face as he told her about his eventual death, he focused cutting on the stringy beef and small, greasy potatoes populating his plate.

"I …don't think it would be wise for you to escort me into the harbor at Port Royal." James managed, pushing a potato chuck around his plate half heartedly. He'd lost his appetite hours ago.

Meredith looked up at him, attentive. "Why not, love?"

"Because…" Here his fortitude faltered. "Because I've already lost one of his Majesty's ships, for which the penalty is death, and I don't want to add your name to the hangman's list as well. If you're seen in Port Royal they'll hang you as soon as look at you!" the Commodore stressed, his eyes begging his soon to be lady to reconsider her travel plans.

Meredith did not seem inclined to accept a change, until James' eyes betrayed the solemnity and remorse with which he had made this decision. Her posture deflated a little in submission, and she licked her lips, setting down her knife and fork. "Then how do you propose you get home?"

* * *

"I say, what on earth is that?" the captain of the Peniforte said, fitting the glass to his eye and pointing it where the midshipman said he had seen a longboat floating.

"There was a man there, sir!" the midshipman said, mostly for his own defense than the life of the man who had been aboard the boat. Soon, a bedraggled figure emerged from the boat, waving what had once been a white handkerchief, now in a sorry state of repair.

"Man overboard on the starboard bow! We'll put out the launch and see if we can't get him aboard." The captain decided, snapping the telescope tube shut.

* * *

From his position in the Archangel's dingy, repainted so as to look as one from a navy vessel, James waved his arms above his head again, suitably soiled handkerchief in hand.

The crew of the Archangel had had a field day with his uniform, soiling and ripping it within an inch of its life to make it seem as though he had been these past few months at sea in the little dingy. That had been a week ago. They left him with water, what passed for edible ship's biscuit and then some of the more maggoty variety to make it appear he had been there for quite awhile. Nicholas had wanted to put a dead body in the boat as well, but both Meredith and the rest of the crew agreed that James would have tossed it overboard and furthermore, no one had volunteered for the job of being starved to death for acting's sake.

"Ahoy! What ship you from, lad!" The cox'n of the launch shouted through cupped hands.

"The Defiant! And I'll thank you to address me as Sir, as I am the Commodore of Port Royal!" Norrington shouted back, trying to swallow the dry hoarse feeling he obtained from yelling from a parched throat. He imagined he was now very sunburned and had a week's worth of beard upon his face, which did not add to the quotient of his respectability. Hopefully the commanding voice would help his case.

"Begging your pardon, sir!" The cox'n quickly amended, shouting at his own men to 'pull harder, you seadogs!'

The utterance of the magic phrase that he outranked them conveyed him aboard the Peniforte just that much faster. Obviously the captain was somewhere far down the list, for he tried to give Commodore Norrington a suitable reception aboard, the bosun's whistles piping him aboard.

"We in Port Royal had assumed the worst for you, Commodore." The captain, whose name Norrington could remember vaguely from some naval function was Umberton, said, every note of his speech layered with the varnish of brownnosing. Perhaps if he got a good nod from the commodore he might be in line for promotion to a bigger ship, a fourth or fifth rate frigate instead of this piddling sixth rate he was now in charge of.

"It by the worst you mean dead, I can assure you that I am far from it. Might I obtain a bath and some clean clothes? I have been in that boat for God knows how long." Norrington said, laying on the condescension extra thick.

The captain nodded vigorously, ushering the commodore into his own cabin and sending his steward to rifle through his sea chest in search of a set of clothes that might fit the Commodore and a midshipman to the ship's steward to heat some water so that the Commodore might take a bath.

Twenty minutes later, hip deep in lukewarm water but now clean enough for polite company and sans beard, Norrington had to admit that notoriety and rank did have their advantages. He climbed from the bath, toweling himself off and slipping into Captain Umberton's extra clothes.

Umberton was not as spare as James himself was, and the Commodore had to belt the breeches in order to have them remain at his hips. The shirt, however, was not so bad, and the captain's steward rushed in momentarily with the coat, the emblems of commodore to which he was entitled salvaged from his ruined coat stitched masterfully on. He emerged from the cabin with a great deal more respectability than when he had entered it, joining the captain on the quarterdeck to confer with him on their coarse.

"How soon before we return to Port Royal?" He asked sharply, painfully aware of how ragtag he must still have looked.

"With this wind, and the weather providing, a week, sir." The captain said, keeping an eye on the sails as he did so.

James nodded, as if taking this in stride. "Captain Umberton, might I avail myself of your writing desk? I have dispatches and reports that need to be written up."

"Oh, yes, of course, Commodore! It is the mahogany case with the gold clasp in with my navigational tools." The captain said. "I would get it for you myself, but…"

"The running of a ship is a full time, job, of that I am well aware. Thank you, captain." James said curtly, returning below.

He had no intention of writing dispatches or reports- he was going to write to Meredith. It had only been a week and it felt like an eternity since he had seen her. What an odd relationship they had- a pirate and a commodore, in love no less. He found the case, drawing out a quill and the penknife to sharpen the point so he could write. He uncorked the squat glass bottle of ink, setting it back in the hole in the case reserved for that purpose, and dipping his pen, began to write.

_To My Darling-_

_You will be pleased to learn that by the time you will have received this letter, I will be in Port Royal. Hopefully it will not be too long before I receive a letter from you in return. How long it seems since I have seen your face last! Every day I awake, and find myself without your warmth…_

And so the letter went. He did not speak of the court martial, or the inevitability of his death, or the hopelessness of their relationship. He only spoke of love, swathing himself in that one small comfort still reserved to him-that someone, somewhere, wished he came home safe. He had completely filled the page with his euphoric thoughts and musings when there was a loud sharp series of knocks upon the door.

"Yes, what is it?" he said, annoyance dripping from his voice.

"Please sir, the captain wonders if you might take dinner with him in the wardroom." The squeaky voice of a midshipman called through the door.

"Tell him I'll be done momentarily." The commodore barked, hastily finishing off the letter and sealing it with a few drips of wax.

For all he thought of the Royal Navy, convenience was never their strong point for passengers of any kind.

* * *

Okay, perhaps not so sorry results. Reviews? If I may misquote: _Authors are not fed on books and pens alone, but on every word that falls from the mouths of their reviewers._

One other thing- if you'd like a picture of what the Commodore looks like sunburned, scraggle bearded and uniform in disarray, (it is a bit of a stretch, I know) I believe that POTC 2 does an admirable job.

Okay, I can't paste a link in here no matter what I do to it. well, if you look on IMDb, they have a few pictures of James that work very nicely for this story.


	9. Changes

Chapter nine:

IT'S BACK, PEOPLE!

After much deliberation, I've decided this is not a loss, and I can finish! WOOT.

* * *

When finally he reached Port Royal the promised week later, there was a tidy sheaf of mail for him at Admiralty House, probably fished out of wastebaskets to judge by its condition. One of the letters was from Meredith; James had to wonder how she could have gotten his letter and replied so quickly. But, she was a pirate, and he was convinced, more than ever after his previous encounters with the elusive breed, that they had some magic about them, superstitious though he did not count himself.

It began:

_Dearest, darling James,_

_I am glad to find you well, and gladder still will I wait to see you, though, as for me, the waiting is a terrible burden. Nicholas has noticed it, and has spoken to me of it, but I will not admit to something so commonplace as a broken heart…_

Hers ran in the same vein as his- ignorant of the terrible and focusing on the light-hearted. Halfway through it turned cheeky, the writer either intoxicated or in very high spirits. There was a rather odd post-script at the end of the letter-

_PS- What do you think of monogrammed silver?_

The thought was so random and so misplaced, the writing looking as though it had been dashed off at a moment's notice, that Norrington had to laugh. He took a sheet of paper from his own writing desk and began,

_Sweetheart,_

_Monogrammed silver sounds lovely. I am surprised, however, you would think of something so inanely domestic when there are so many more pressing things I am sure jockey for your time…_

So it went on like this for months- they spoke of sundries and post-scripted the concerns, minute though they were, for the wedding, should it ever happen.

Norrington's post as Commodore of Port Royal had been filled by the advancement and promotion of Captain Garrett, one of his more senior officers. The new commodore was having a hard time adjusting to the return of his predecessor, having thought him dead.

His things had been shunted into storage at Admiralty House, waiting the auctioneer's block. It had taken several hours to dig them out again and fit together a room for him. This lack of quarters threw into shambles any and all plans he might have had for the refitting of his quarters to make them a bit more presentable for Meredith.

He had several years of backpay saved up at the offices of his bankers, Kittering, Bonnell and Teague, and due to his thrifty spending habits over the years of his commission, it was quite a substantial sum. Thanks to the slow moving turtle of bureaucracy, his assets had not been liquidated yet to add to that sum, which would (the bankers assured him of this) have been sent home to his sister in England forthwith. After much speculation about whether he was really former Commodore James Norrington, RN, most decidedly not deceased, they agreed to let him withdraw a modest sum to purchase a house.

He was rather fortunate in this regard, as Port Royal did not have a sufficient number of immigrants to necessitate the constant building of new houses, for a merchant had recently left town and gone home to England after family problems marred his chances of business on the island.

So James bought the house, and the shop of the unfortunate merchant on Brown Paper Row where all the imported business of the town was conducted. Here you could buy tea from England and China, pottery from the Netherlands, cloth and lace from France.If the Navy did not want him back after his court martial- which was to be held as soon as the admiral arrived – with all he knew of the sea, he would be assured of some moderate success in business as a merchant.

He wrote to Meredith of his progress with the house, of all the little touches here and there she was sure to love, and she was touched, writing in her letters how a woman could not hope for a more thoughtful husband. He wrote of his business prospects to her, and she laughed playfully. She promised to speak with some of her 'business partners' as she called them, and in later letters wrote back what they had to say in the manner of mercantiles and their running.

And finally, the admiral arrived in Port Royal, ready to convene the year's court-martials. The rest of the list was full of smaller offenses- disobeying orders, mostly, with one desertion and one count of espionage.

The court martial was not as bad as he had anticipated- the admiral knew his record, and his not having been in any previous trouble served him well. In the end, he was forced to accept quarter pay until the value of the ship could be recovered- that would take centuries, he expected- and was not hanged at all. He was, however, knocked down the naval list, putting him junior to every officer in the fleet, including those who were not even full captains yet, last in line for a promotion back to a ship.

There had been some finagling of the truth- he did not admit to the court that he was technically in violation of article 32, letting a person for which there is a warrant out for arrest go free, or that the reason for said action was that he was madly in love with the subject of said warrant. Things like that were not worth the breath it took to mention them to the senior officers of the court.

He emerged from the stuffy humidity of the courtroom and took a deep breath of fresh air, heading back to his house to write Meredith of the good news. It would be only the second time he had ever mentioned the trial to her- he had evaded the subject long enough until last night, when he had begun a letter saying that if she should receive it unsigned, he was dead. But he finished it happily, pressing his seal into the lukewarm wax and addressing it to her home port way out in the Bahamas. He would not send it with the traditional mail, pressing it into the care of a smuggler whom he knew went that way in exchange for a good word with the new Commodore and a bit of business.

James would have been awed a year ago at what sort of man he was now- making deals with smugglers and marriage contracts with pirates instead of governor's daughters. And speaking of governor's daughters, he hadn't seen much of Elizabeth lately. He assumed she was making preparations for her own wedding to one Mr. William Turner, Blacksmith. He shook the thought from his head: he didn't want to think about that.

After the news of his acquittal, Meredith began sending not only letters, but boxes of goods as well, both for the wedding and for the store, all of them she assured him gotten by honest means, but not perhaps by honest money, as she put it. James rolled his eyes when he read this, allowed himself a chuckle and went to dust off the shelves and oversee the unpacking of the goods by his two new shopkeepers, sisters named Henrietta and Hannah Dobbs who had come to Jamaica years ago with their brother in hopes of making their fortunes marrying naval officers. That happy (and occasionally harrowing) fate had not found them, however, and they remained unmarried, gossipy spinsters who made excellent clerks.

More and more Meredith wrote him of the wedding, so much, in fact, that it caused James to remark, somewhat callously, in hindsight, that she was turning into quite an ordinary woman. She wrote back, _"If I was in the same room with you now, I would be hard pressed to choose between slapping you for your impudence and kissing you." _

She went on, wistful in her tone.

_"I have not seen you in so long, James, that every day I remember less of your face. Your letters are the only thing that bring it back to me. I can hear you, reading them aloud as if I were a child and you were telling me a story. And every night, before I go to sleep, I take them out and read them again, hoping that somehow, magically, you may appear and take me in your arms again. Please, I beg of you, do not ever stop writing."_

And he wrote her weekly, long missives with nothing important in them, apologizing at the end for making her pay postage for nonsense. And she wrote him back just as frequently, saying that it felt wondrous to have the events of the week play out for her on paper: _"It is as though I am there, and am really your wife already. And fear not for the postage- my coffers will cover the cost a thousand times over."_

It had been nearly eight months since he had seen her last- the edges of her letters to him were growing weakened from constant reading, set aside in a drawer of his desk that, when pulled open, assailed him with the slightest smell of her perfume. He was attending to the month's ledger in the back room of the little store when Henrietta bustled in, trying to hide a smile.

"Please, Mr. Norrington, but there's a woman outside who'd like to speak with you on a business matter."

"Tell her to wait a few minutes, and I'll be done." James said, not looking up from the ledger. He was doing some particularly hinky calculations, and didn't wish to be pulled aside for some housewife complaining about bubbles in her French milled soap.

"Please, sir, and she says it's urgent." Henrietta added, ringing her hands in her nervous, birdlike fashion.

"Very well, show her in." James said, scratching something out on his paper and beginning again. There was a rustling of skirts, and the door creaked as someone brushed it open.

"Yes, well, what is it?" he asked testily, not looking up.

"If I had known that business would turn you into a distemperate old fellow, I would never have let you consider this career. The look of a clerk doesn't suit you, my darling." The woman said with a little laugh in her voice. At the sound of 'my darling', James looked up, his face going from supremely annoyed to unequivocally joyous.

He nearly upended his desk getting up to kiss Meredith, his eight month's hiatus from her overriding his normal calm. How had he not recognized her voice? After he realized he was probably getting ink on her dress, he stopped, and withdrew his hands, wiping them on his handkerchief while he looked her over, wreathed in smiles.

She was wearing a French gown, the latest cut, in a plain white print sprigged with blue flowers. Though with her tanned skin she could hardly pass for a lady, she wore a straw hat and carried her reticule and fan. "Do you not like my attire? I could not have the good folk of Port Royal see me in men's clothing, it would not be done." She said, studying her fiancé as well.

His jacket lay over the back of the chair, and his cuffs, short and without lace, still bore some ink stains, as did his hands. He had not bothered to buy a new wig upon his return, and instead wore his own hair tied back in a queue with just a hint of pomade in it to help it keep its shape through the Jamaican heat. "You look every inch the prominent merchant, James." Meredith said. "though I do miss the naval jacket on you. Is there any chance of you being reinstated to the list?"

"I was not taken off the list, merely banished to the bottom of it." James explained. "But why are you here? The harbor authorities are sure to have seen the Archangel."

"I didn't come on the Archangel. I booked a passage on the Revel, out of Nassau." Meredith said. "Under my mother's maiden name, Thorpe. So there is no Meredith Lords in Port Royal legally at the moment. Does that satisfy your concerns?"

"Admirably. Have you any other law-breaking you wish to notify me of? Ships sunk? Cities sacked? Rebel flags raised over ports?" James asked with dry humor, trying to keep the smile off his face.

Meredith smiled and leaned in close to whisper to him. "Well, I was thinking of raising a few flags while I was in Port Royal, but this is not exactly the place to do so…" she trailed off with a smile. So the rebel still lurked behind that respectable citizen front of hers. James' grin turned roguish, catching her meaning.

"In that case, perhaps I should take off work early. I need to show you the house, now that I think of it, Miss Meredith Thorpe." He said with a twinkle in his eye, grabbing his coat and his hat and offering her his arm. "Hannah, I need to escort Miss Thorpe home. I shall not be returning for the rest of the afternoon. Could you lock up for today?" James said with a smile, closing up his office and heading out the door.

Miss Hannah nodded, watching the two of them leave before remarking to her sister, "Aren't they a handsome pair?", in the sort of sad voice that conveyed the fact all too plainly that she wished it was her twenty years younger she wished were on James Norrington's arm.

* * *

REVIEW! Pwease? For Norrington? It'll make him happy, it really will.

Norrington: It'll make her happier.

Yes, and happy Mercury means you get your updates, longer, faster!

….good gog, I sound like a commercial…


	10. Keeping House

Chapter Ten

* * *

It was not an elaborate affair, James' town house, thought it had a set of large rooms on the first floor for entertaining and a few more than a few bedrooms upstairs. Indeed, the previous owner the merchant had been a man characterized to be more stingy than James himself. However, a man in love is not inclined to be stingy, especially on his beloved, and Norrington had turned the inside of the house into a cozy, welcoming place, fitted with every creature comfort he could offer. 

Meredith toured the house with growing delight, marveling at the huge brick fireplace in the kitchen and the various culinary tools James had commissioned from Will Turner. "Hopefully you won't be spending too much time in here, and we'll get a cook instead." James said with a smile, wrapping his arms around her waist and nestling his head on her shoulder.

Meredith chuckled. "Are you implying I can't cook?" she asked him, frowning a little.

"Oh, never! I only meant that I want you to be a lady. Not just a housewife, with red hands and swelling ankles from washing and being on her feet all day." James said in apology. Meredith broke away from his arms, smiling with some yet unspoken thought.

"So you do not wish me to be tired, is that it?" she asked mischeviously.

"In a manner of words…" James trailed off, not catching whatever hidden meaning she had.

"You want me to be alert. Ready for anything when the signal comes." Meredith continued, backing away towards the stairs with a keen smile. James took a moment, following her train of thought with creaky mental wheels. Alert…signals…signals were made with flags…she mentioned she wanted to run up flags…James' own smile turned roguish.

"For anything." He said darkly, slowly prowling towards her. She made her way up the stairs, carefully so as to not rip her dress, slowly luring him into his bedroom.

"Even at three in the afternoon?" Meredith said, turning back to him as she opened the door.

"Even at three in the afternoon." James said, pouncing and pushing her inside, slamming the door behind them.

The sun was just beginning to fall back down to the Jamaican horizon when Meredith made herself get out of bed, collecting her clothes from where they had been thrown about the room.

"Well, I must be getting back to the Queen's Road Inn. They will be expecting me there for dinner, and I have a private room there for the next week." She said, business-like, sitting on the side of the bed to put on her stockings

James sat up, his carefree smile gone. "I thought you would stay here for until the wedding. With me." He added, somewhat hurt.

"I can't sully your good name like that. Think about what people would say! It would not be good for business, you know." She reminded him, tweaking his nose as she would a small child. "After the wedding, I promise."

"_That_ is not going to be a subject of debate!" James thundered in consternation.

Meredith continued getting dressed, her voice taking on a strained tone. "James, I can see that I've upset you. However, I am going back to the inn, and nothing you may say can change that. Whilst I am going back, I will make inquiries of that little church on the way about their rules regarding weddings. If you would like, you may escort me back to the inn. But you must promise to be a perfect gentleman and not ask admittance to my room. I will not get married with the whole town thinking I'm some sort of hussy." Meredith said decidedly, slipping her dress over her head. "I will have some semblance of respectability as a start to this marriage."

James hung his head for a moment and nodded. "I'm sorry. I was…only thinking of myself." He watched her scramble for her shoes, and he sighed, getting out of bed and helping her look. "Am I never going to be allowed to win an argument with you?"

"Never, James." Meredith said with a sigh. "There is never enough room for two captains in one house. It is better you find this out now rather than…later…" her voice trailed off, sounded ragged.

"Oh, well, we shall make it work. I can be a very patient man, you know." James said, still searching for her shoe.

She turned around just as his back was turned to her, and she could not help but laugh at her naked fiancé. He stood up, vaguely annoyed.

"What on earth amuses you so much, woman?" James said, somewhat more gruff than usual.

"Your skin is as white as a sheet and you've the reddest love-mark I've ever seen on your shoulder, my dear." Meredith said with a laugh. James turned around his head, frowning.

"Where?" he asked, knowing he must look a sight, with his head craned over his shoulder and stark naked to boot. Meredith stepped over the carnage of two over-eager lovers and laid her finger on it, turning him around to the mirror so he could see. There on his shoulder was a messy looking mark, very red against his pale skin. She had kissed him there, he remembered now. "Oh. What do you know." He said, inspecting it in the mirror for a few moments before Meredith pinched his bare bum and flounced out. "Ow! What'd you do that for?"

"I thought you said you were escorting me home!" she said, walking down the stairs, her voice echoing in the empty house.

"I am! I did!" James defended, holding a hand to the pinched spot and winching.

"Well you can't very well do it naked, so stop admiring your bum in the mirror and get dressed!" she shouted back up to him. James rolled his eyes.

"I was not admiring my bum. " he said in a defensive voice, searching for his shirt.

* * *

Aww, cute fluffy funny stuffs. Gots ter have that every two or three chapters. I apologize for the short length, but I kinda lost my thread and it just sort of ended there. 

A lot of people have been mentioning in their reviews that they think this whole Will/ Elizabeth thing will come back to haunt James. While that is not far from the truth, all I'm saying is, there will be the wedding crashing to end all wedding crashings in a later chapter. Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn will be put to shame.

Not saying by who, but keep a weather eye open, give it a chapter, maybe three or four, and form your own guesses…


	11. Conflict

Chapter eleven

I've made a decision to try to update this every week, on Thursday or Friday. Cheers!

There's a bit of a joke in this chapter about where they are when someone says something. See if you can find it!

* * *

They spoke to the curate of the little church on Broad Street, who smiled and nodded and asked all the right questions. He took down their names (Meredith used her real one- the curate didn't seem to recognize it) and a few bits and pieces of information like birthdays and mothers' maiden names and places of birth and were either of them in the army, for that required a special dispensation from the commander to marry. They answered his questions, leaving his little log blank as to the date, saying they had to think about it a little while. 

"I still want to know why we couldn't make it next week. It would be a perfectly legal marriage, and them you could be with me for just that much longer." James was saying as they walked down Broad Street (not very broad, despite the name) to the Queen's Road Inn (Not quite a misnomer, as the street had originally been the Queen's Road until Queen Mary had left office and the name had changed)

"Unlike you, my family lives within decent sailing time of here. And they would like to come to see me married- it amused them to no end while I was at home to think of me playing housewife." Meredith stroked the arm with which he escorted her with one of her fawn gloved hands, smiling. James tipped his hat as one of the town's merchants passed by with his wife, and the man did the same, nodding to Meredith with a slight smile. "And I suppose we shall have to invite the entire business community as well. It is only fitting, in light of your new position." She added.

"Have I ever told you how much I dislike large parties?" James asked, feeling the rustle of her skirt along his silken-clad calf with every step.

"No, James, you haven't." Meredith admitted, looking in the shop windows of Broad Street while still paying attention to him.

"Well, let me inform you now that I can't stand them. There's brownnosing and pointless conversation and spinster women who flirt badly at every beck and call." James said distastefully.

"The only spinsters I was thinking of inviting were Henrietta and Hannah, the dears. Then there's the merchants, perhaps some of your captain friends, maybe the governor and the commander of the marines…and then my family, who can be very civil, despite the fact that they are, indeed, pirates." Meredith annotated, watching James' reaction.

"Please let's not talk about the guest list anymore, the last time I was planning my wedding I never got this far, and I suppose the same people would have been invited." James said as they walked past the blacksmith's shop. Meredith patted his arm.

"I understand." She said quietly, and then was silent, enjoying the view of the wharf. "Well, we are here." She said, opening the door to the homely little inn.

"Please, Miss, lemme buy you a drink!" shouted a man in a dingy corner, laughing.

"Aye, or one on the 'ouse!" said the barkeep. "Face as pretty as yours shouldn't 'ave ask first."

"No, Mister Thomas, it is rather early. But thank you for the kind offer." She said gracefully, turned to James, who was stooping a little to get through the door and nearly smacking his head on a rafter. "This is my fiancé, gentlemen, Mr. Norrington. Mr. Norrington, Mr. Thomas, proprietor of the Queen's Road. If you will excuse us, gentlemen." Meredith said, ascending the stairs to second floor, where several grimy doors admitted this was not merely an alehouse but, indeed, an inn. "Don't mind them, James, they're perfectly harmless men." Meredith said, taking a key from her valise and opening her door.

"The words men and perfectly harmless do not belong in a sentence together unless the phrase 'are never' is in between them." James rebuked stiffly. "When afflicted by drink, any man, be he respectable or no, turns into a brute and a scoundrel." And how often he had been that man, in his youth, and after Elizabeth had refused him. "I wish you would reconsider my offer. I don't feel safe having you here." He pleaded.

Meredith opened the dark drawer next to her cot and showed him the pistol inside. "James, I think I can handle a few drunk men." She said reassuringly. "I've only been living on ships for the past ten years, and sailors are the worst drunks of the lot."

"I guess you could have done a lot better than me." James said with a sad smile. Meredith slapped his cheek lightly.

"Don't say things like that, you're not a sailor. You're a merchant now, and a captain in the Royal Navy. That does not make you a sailor. That makes you a man of the sea. There is a distinct difference." She said, kissing the cheek she had hit. "Now go home, and… dream pretty dreams of me." She said whimsically.

James smiled and said, "Oh, I think I shall," before kissing her lips for one last taste before leaving and shutting the door behind him. He did not leave immediately, but went back down to the bar, now awkwardly silent.

"'Ow about a toast to your impendin' marriage, sir?" Mr. Thomas said, trying to fill in the silence, pulling out a tankard and beginning to fill it. James peered over the bar, fixing the barkeep with a dangerous stare.

"If I find out one single thing was allowed to happen to Miss Thorpe in all the time she spends here, I will personally see to it you are hanged, drawn, and quartered at the earliest convenience." He said vindictively. "Do I make myself clear?" The innkeeper nodded quickly, his eyes filled with understanding.

"Good. Now, Miss Thorpe has not had dinner yet. See to it she gets it." James added lightly, putting a silver dollar down on the counter and leaving quickly, walking back up Broad street back to his house.

He did not sleep easily that night.

* * *

When James arrived in the shop the next morning, Henrietta took one look at the circles under his eyes and bustled off to set the fire in his office to make tea. 

"Long night with the books, sir?" she asked, scooping a few spoonfuls of the tealeaves into the kettle and setting it over the fire.

"Just full of worry and woe, Henrietta. No bookkeeping." James explained. "My fiancée- the young woman who came in yesterday and with whom I left- did not pick the most wise travel accommodations for last night."

Henrietta's thin lips formed an o, and she nodded. "I see, sir. Well, you know there's the apartment over the store you let us rent, sir, and it being just the two of us, there's an extra room up there that we never use. She might have it, sir, while she's here. We'd be glad of the company, and you could get some sleep knowing she's somewhere safe."

James thought of poor Meredith with the two busybodies, and then of her in that squallid- well, that was unfair, it was not _exactly_ squallid- inn and decided he'd rather have her ears talked off than her virtue taken advantage of. "I am sure she will be glad of the company as well, Miss Dobbs. I will inform her of your offer as soon as I see her."

"Which will be soon, I expect, seeing as how she's at the door now." Henrietta said, pointing behind James. Sure enough, there was Meredith, now in green, her face pressed up against the glass, trying to see in.

James could not get to the door fast enough to let her in.

"Oh, darling, I was worried sick about you." He said, holding her hands for a moment and then bringing her farther inside the shop. He looked at her basket and then at her, somewhat confused. "Where are you going?" he inquired.

"The milliner's, and then the printer's shop. I need to see what I may have for my wedding dress, and then to see how much it will cost to have invitations made. We need to decide a date, dearest." She said, adjusting his neckcloth and brushing a stray hair off his shoulder.

"Perhaps as we walk to the milliner's." James said, giving her a peck on the cheek, putting on the coat he had just taken off.

"James, you have a business to run. I'm not going to have you gallivanting off with me all over town. I am perfectly capable of going to the milliner's myself." Meredith protested, taking off the coat and putting it on the counter.

"Well then, at least let Hannah go with you." James offered. He smiled in that wheedling way. "For me? I don't want you to get lost. Or pickpocketed. Or cheated. Or-"

Meredith sighed and silenced him. "Very well, James. I'll take Miss Dobbs, if she would be so kind." She said, turning to the older woman. Hannah nodded, taking her hat from it's peg behind the counter and tying it on. "Now stop your worrying. You're worse than my grandmother."

"Well, one of us has to be responsible!" James called out the door, dropping his shoulders as Meredith paid him no heed. "I suppose it's hopeless to try to get her to listen to me." He said, going to the door and flipping the sign that indicated they were open for business.

* * *

"Master Norrington, I made the acquaintance of a most curious young lady yesterday in the milliner's." Mrs. Quincy, one of the town's many gossips, was saying as James wrapped up her purchase. "She claimed to be your fiancée. A Miss…Meredith Thorpe." 

James finished his wrapping and handed her the package. He'd known Mrs. Quincy wasn't a woman to have come to pick up her own sugar unless she'd wanted to talk to him about something. "She _is_ my fiancée, Mrs. Quincy." He said, hoping his voice was not too bright. Mrs. Quincy had been trying to get James to marry her perfectly revolting daughter, Iphegenia, for the longest time, and this particular revelation would irk her to no end.

"Oh, is that so?" Mrs. Quincy asked politely. "I had never seen her before." This was to indicate she had never seen her at one of the few social parties for the upper class held in Port Royal, and thought he might be marrying under his station, a kitchen maid or worse.

"She is from England. An acquaintance of my mother's." James said, trying to salvage Meredith's reputation from the depths of the gutter where Mrs. Quincy thought it belonged. The gossip had the utmost respect for Mrs. Norrington, who was a member of the peerage, albeit a very low member, who had married below her station into the merchant class, unlike Mrs. Quincy, who James had on good authority had married above hers.

"Really? Well, you must have her call on Iphegenia and me some time! She will need a proper introduction into our little circle." Mrs. Quincy said, slipping the package into her basket. "Thank you, Master Norrington. And do not forget to have her call!" she said sweetly. James nodded perfunctionarily, making a mental note to put her and her daughter on the wedding guest list for spite's sake.

Over the next week, no less than a dozen invitations to various teas, sewing circles and dinners arrived for Meredith, some of them delivered by the hostesses in question themselves to James' shop. Meredith answered all of them in their turn, armed with a sweet smile and a set of manners so impeccable James heard it remarked in several dinners that mothers were jealous she was not marrying one of their sons.

When he told this to Meredith, she only laughed and said, "If only they knew me."

She allowed herself afternoons for these social calls, allotting her mornings for wedding plans. Having moved into the room above the shop, it was fairly easy for her to ask James' opinion on things- she merely had to go downstairs. And she asked his opinion on everything- the menu, the invitations (which she had decided were going to be handwritten by Hannah and Henrietta after she had seen their ledgers), and the guest list.

The guest list was probably the hardest thing for James- there were old friends, and new enemies on it, Mrs. Quincy being least among those. But by far the name that generated the most uproar was this: Miss Elizabeth Swann.

"You cannot invite my traitorous ex fiancée to my wedding!" James shouted when Meredith mentioned it. Meredith had the good sense not to yell back at him.

"Come now, she was hardly traitorous! If I was in her shoes and you in William's I would have done the exact same thing to save you. She was only trying to help someone she loved!" Meredith reasoned.

"By exploiting the affections of another!" Norrington verbally parried, his voice still much louder than necessary.

Meredith was having a hard time restraining her own temper. "Yes, well, she's moved on, and obviously, you haven't! And that hurts me, James, a lot more than it hurts you!" she said explosively, going back upstairs.

James stood there, stiff as a statue, his mouth still agape, the look in his eyes fading from anger and rage to understanding and remorse. He hadn't been thinking about her when had said that. And it was true, what she had said about his feelings for Elizabeth hurting her more than him. There was still some very small corner of his heart devoted to Elizabeth, and it didn't need to be there; she would never love him. Not the way she loved Will, anyway.

He climbed the stairs as quietly as he could, opening the door to Meredith's small room to hear her sobbing, lying on her bed with her face in her pillow. He sat down next to her, pulling her hair back from her face in the most tender way he knew, and said softly, "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking when I said that."

Meredith sobbed, not looking at him, "You don't think I feel betrayed by Antoine? You don't think I feel used? I do, James, I do! And I don't want to feel that way again!"

James looked at his hands. "I guess there's not much I can do, then."

"No, there's not. Now leave me alone!" she mumbled, turning her face away from him. James got up, walking back downstairs with heavy feet.

Some life partner he was going to be.

* * *

The line about James being an alcoholic for a little bit was to satisfy the POTC2Verse!Norrington again. Good, no? 

All couples quarrel, right? I think that makes a marriage stronger if you can work out your differences, and that was an issue that needed to be resolved. So, that'll get worked out in the next chapters or so. See, you people who said Elizabeth was an issue? You were right!

Reviews, please?


	12. Resolution

Chapter twelve

Now, if you don't like your heroes flowery in speech and highbrow in character, I suggest you turn back now, 'cause we got some veritable poets in this chapter. No idea why. I apologize for the OC ness of it all. I'm too lazy to attempt to change it, 'cause I like how it sounds.

The days crept on in mindless monotony with Meredith angry at him. He got up, washed and dressed, ate breakfast (alone), walked to the shop(alone), attended to business matters, ate dinner (alone), sat behind the counter and did more business, walked home (alone), ate supper (alone) and went to bed (very much alone). At every bend in the road that was his daily routine there was something they might have done together, and the thought that she was not there to share it preoccupied him.

The big house had not seemed so big when she was in it- now it seemed cavernous, a great vast beast ready to swallow him. James came in, set his coat and hat on the hook by the door, and sat down in one of the chairs in his sitting room, feeling like a fly on the wall. He stared at the wall, at the curio cabinet in the corner, at the vase on the sideboard, at the painting that hung there.

Meredith had bought that painting, he remembered with a twinge of sadness. He had thought it far too religious in nature to put anywhere in the house but the sitting room: a conversation piece, that's what Meredith had called it. It was an allegory; the subject of the painting, a knight, offered his heart on his sword to a lion with a crown of thorns around its neck. The knight was supposed to be Everyman; the lion, God. James got up from his chair, looking at the picture more closely. On further inspection, he found that the collar of thorns was actually of roses, just beginning to bloom. And on the heart, hanging on the sword, there was an inscription-

"Amour…vincit…omnia." James squinted to read. Love conquers all. "So who is love, the lion or the knight?" He asked the empty room. He might look at it two ways, he decided. Either the knight was defeated, and offered his heart to the victor, the lion, who stood for the love of God, in submission, or the lion was submitting to the knight at the offer of his heart, the seat of love. He looked at the painting again, and smiled. "So by loving, you bind, and are bound at the same time."

"It is a double edged sword. I cut you, and it cuts me back." Meredith said from the shadows. He had not heard anyone come in, and turned around in surprise.

"Are we speaking again?" James asked sharply.

"I could not pass another day seeing you with a look of hopelessness upon your face, for it was then reflected in mine." Meredith said, walking over to stroke his cheek. "I suppose I overreacted. I am sorry."

"You were within your rights. I was wrong to…to bring her up again. I know I should not have this ache inside of me, but it lingers, and it festers. And it only goes away when you are near me, and I know that you will not cast me aside so lightly and so callously as she did." James confessed, staring at the carpet, not wanting to look at her.

Slowly, she brought his face back to look at her, and her eyes were kind again; How he loved that kindness there! It could melt the coldest of his tempers. "We are both lovers scorned, James. But no longer. They who caused us hurt are behind us now, not before us, and cannot hinder our path any longer. Are we agreed?"

" We are. And may they rot together." James said, smiling and taking her in his arms to kiss her. When they broke apart, Meredith smiled, satisfied.

"It does me good to see you happy once again." She murmured, embracing him tighter. In the stillness of the sitting room, something crinkled in her pocket. She let out a cry of inspiration, remembering something and pulling forth a letter. "It is from my parents. They write that they shall be here in a month, to 'witness our nuptials', as Papa says. My father was always one for embellishment."

"They're coming? Here? That soon?" All of James' calm had been shattered. "But there's so much that needs to be done! The food, the wine, the music, the church!"

"James, James. Calm down. I talked with the curate on the way here, Governor Swann offered the use of his chef after I mentioned casually at tea that I was looking for one, and I think that lovely little quartet they use down at the fort for ceremonial occasions should do handsomely."

"We haven't got a date yet!" James said, feeling very out of control, like the ship of his life had lost its mainmast. Or its rudder.

"I decided the first of June was a good enough date. It's a Sunday." Meredith said. "I thought you might want it sooner, rather than later."

"That's not nearly a month! We aren't-" Here Meredith cut off James' consternated complaints with a well placed hand.

"Never are battles lost or won /by men who say "It can't be done."" She quoted. "Everything shall be fine, James. What do I need you to do to get you to stop worrying?" she asked, removing the hand from his lips.

"You could air out my sheets again. And… that's an order." James suggested roguishly. "Unless that's not in your little pirate's code as well, obeying orders."

"How about I belay that order until the night of June the first?" Meredith said. "You don't outrank me anymore, Captain." She said with a grin. "I left a meat pie I purchased at the butcher's today in the kitchen, and I shall be going back to the shop now, if that suits you." she said, picking up her hat and reticule and heading out the door. James watched her leave, a smile on his face.

"There's _never_ enough room for two captains in one house." He said rhetorically, going into the kitchen to investigate what she had left him for dinner.

It was a breezy late April morning with just the right amount of sun to make it both pleasant and light enough to read by (a rare thing in the West Indies) when the door of the little shop opened and three people came in. One of them had to be Meredith- James couldn't see because he was engrossed in the naval gazette, which one of the captains who employed him as ship's chandler for some more expensive and rare items had left on the counter. Though the news was two months old at least, it was still news, and naval news at that.

"Bit small, isn't it? Are you sure we'll have enough room in your apartment upstairs?" a man was saying.

"No, you'll be staying at James' house. He has quite a nice guest room fixed up." That was Meredith- strong and sensible, as always.

"Still can't believe she's marrying a commodore. Royal Navy Commodore to boot. Hey there, you!" A pair of knuckles rapped on the counter, and James jumped a little, putting down the paper. "Aren't you going to help my daughter with this dunnage? Lady can't be expected to carry her own, you know, and you sitting there quiet as you please."

James laid aside the paper to see who it was who was talking to him. The possessor of the voice was a man in his fifties, gray haired with no sign of a wig, well dressed but several years out of fashion, with a developing potbelly, a foot or so shorter than James himself. His face was sharp, and held the signs of having once been handsome.

"I beg your pardon, sir?" James asked, glancing at Meredith, standing on the stairs up to her room, who stifled a giggle. She recovered, and stepped back down the stairs, placing herself between the visitor and the counter.

"Papa, this is James Norrington, my fiancée." She said sweetly, laying a hand on Norrington's arm.

The gray haired man frowned. "Nonsense. My daughter's getting married to a Commodore. Not some lazy shop-keep who doesn't listen to his betters." He blustered.

Meredith let out a small laugh. "Well, you see, Papa, he's not a commodore anymore." She said apologetically.

"Hrmph. And how'd you loose your commission, then, Mr. Norrington? Neglect? Disobeying orders? Sloth?" Mr. Lords questioned, staring him down. James got the impression he was once much taller.

"That would have been my fault, Papa. He was court-martialed for losing his ship, which I, coincidentally, sunk." Meredith explained. "We were on much worse terms then." She added, smiling at James, who smiled back at the memory.

"I'll not allow my daughter to marry a merchant! It's beneath her! Beneath her! She's descended from a long line of noble blood, you know!"

James took a deep breath. "Mr. Lords. Please do not insult me again, as I have no wish to fight my future father-in-law. Whatever my shortcomings may be, your daughter seems to have overlooked them or taken them into account before pledging herself to me." He said calmly. "I would also have you note that my mother is descended from a long line of noble blood as well."

At this, Mr. Lords seemed to deflate a little bit, and he lost the haughty edge on his voice. "Well, well, I…I suppose that's good. You'll do- better than that Antoine, that's for certain."

Meredith closed her eyes and covered them with her hand at the mention of the name, and her mother, a smaller, thin woman, who up until now had been silent, laid her hand on Mr. Lords' shoulder.

"Perhaps you should not mention him around Meredith, dear." Mrs. Lords said, turning to James with a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Norrington. I have no qualms whatsoever about your marriage to my daughter."

James bowed slightly. "I am glad to know I have your approval, Mrs. Lords." He said with a small smile.

"Oh, please, call me Mother. Unless, with your own about, that would become confusing…"

"My own mother will not be able to attend." James said shortly. "And my sister writes she is at the moment preoccupied as well."

Mrs. Lords looked somewhat crestfallen. "None of your family will be here, Mr. Norrington?"

James shook his head and shrugged. "The consequences of serving the West Indies squadron, Mother Lords. It cannot be helped. I shall call a carter for your chests." He said, slipping out from the counter and going out to the street with a whistle. It brought the nearest cart instantly, the carter loading the trunks and listening carefully as James gave him directions to the house. "Meredith, if you could help them get settled in." He said, giving her the key to the door and a quick peck on the cheek.

"Gladly, dear." Meredith said with an endearing look. "And do not mind Papa; he is only trying to protect me. He feels so at fault for my last engagement." She added with a whisper before leaving.

_And whose fault exactly is this one?_ James thought to himself as he watched them trundle down the street.

Bad ending, I know. Next week there will be no update, owing to the fact that I will be in…Pennsylvania looking at colleges and will not be back until next Saturday. I apologize. You'll have to wait two weeks. So sad. In the meantime, review!


	13. The Trouble With In Laws

Chapter thirteen

Sorry about the wait, getting back to school is a trial sometimes. Especially senior year of high school…

-----

It seemed that every opportunity for Mr. Lords to more thoroughly examine the past of his future son in law was not going to be missed, for at every spare moment at breakfast, lunch or dinner, James found his life questioned with the utmost scrutiny. It began to wear on Mrs. Lords and her daughter sooner than it did James, and at one point did the both of them ask in a harried fashion if he might give it a rest and let sleeping dogs lie, for surely James was an honorable man now and would continue to be so for the rest of his life, having seen the consequences of his past sins.

After this outburst Mr. Lords was a great deal more kind towards James, joining him in a glass of port after dinner and sharing a few cigars while sharing his own adventures on the _Archangel_. While James found smoking and all other forms of tobacco a smelly menace, he obliged with smoking one cigar, or at least pretending to, while listening to the story.

"I see Papa's been letting you into his Cubans," Meredith said from the foyer, ready to get back to the shop and go to bed herself. Mr. Lords had finally let James go, and he was recovering his breath in the entranceway. " It reeks like a London Gentleman's Club from the kitchen, and out here it is little better."

James kissed her cheek, trying to keep as far away from her clothing as possible while doing so. "I promise you I shall never take up smoking as a habit, as I cannot stand the smell either. You should be getting along to the shop, before it gets too dark. Pirates come to this town occasionally, you know, and are a rotten lot to be caught in after dark." He added with a little grin.

Meredith only smiled back, kissing his lips quickly again before opening the door and descending out into the April night. James watched her from the door until he could see her no longer in the lights from various windows along the street.

"You should be getting to bed, James." Mrs. Lords said quietly from down the hallway. "Meredith will find her way home without you watching her."

James looked at his shoes, pursing his lips. "How did you do it, Mother Lords? She must have been a trial when she was younger."

"All children are, James. I am sure you gave your parents their fair share of close runs with fate." Mrs. Lords said thoughtfully. "You cannot control Meredith, James. She is a free spirit, like her father. Tied to the sea." The mother warned. "A woman no man could ever master completely. Bear that in mind, James," she said sadly, "I could not bear to see her heart broken again." She whispered a goodnight and trudged up the stairs to the guest bedroom, leaving James to contemplate yet again. Finally, after a few fruitless minutes staring down the empty and dark streets, he too went up to bed.

-----

"James, have you given _any_ thought to what you are to be wearing for the wedding?" Mrs. Lords asked after a rather lengthy discussion she had been having with her daughter over the merits of cotton prints over plain silks for day wear (Mrs. Lords, it seemed, kept an eye on fashion from across the Atlantic) and the question as well as the inclusion of him into the conversation startled James. Mr. Lords had long since finished his breakfast, and had gone on a walk, leaving James to eat without conversation.

"I was thinking one of my good suits." James said blandly. Meredith let out a sort of giggle and exchanged a look with her mother. "Is something wrong with that?" Norrington asked, confused.

"When a bachelor typically says good suits it means they are all of them in very sorry condition. I have only seen one half-decent coat in your wardrobe, James, and it does not befit a wedding party. How you got through nearly a year in this town without a presentable coat is beyond me." Mrs. Lords said matter-of-factly.

James refrained from rolling his eyes. He had no one to impress in Port Royal; what use was following fashion and expending hard earned coin on it if there was no use in it? "My dress uniform, then." He said defensively. "It is good enough, is it not?"

Meredith smiled, and set down her fork to lay her hand on James' arm. "May I remind my fiancé he is no longer a commodore, and thus not entitled to the privilege of wearing the honored jacket. And, as I recall, it is not in the best of conditions anyway." She whispered in his ear.

James sighed. Point taken. "What, then, do you propose I do about my wardrobe, Miss Lords?" he asked, rising from the table to pull out her chair, seeing that she was finished and wished to leave.

"Leave the store with Henrietta and I, take Mother and go to your tailor's. Mother will know what matches my gown and what doesn't. Do not look at me so, James, Father will think you a pauper beside me if you do not do something for your wardrobe."

"Very well." James said testily. There were a dozen better things he might be doing besides getting fitted for a suit, but he was in need of one, now that he thought of it. "One suit."

But Mrs. Lords had other things in mind at the tailor's, and instead of merely one suit, ordered him an entire wardrobe, much of it without his imput. New stockings, (his were worn thin at the heels), new shoes, (for the old ones were quite showing their seams), new shirts, breeches, (both buff and black, for both suited his color), neckcloths, a new hat; the list went on and on. At James' indignant face at the price, what seemed to his pinchpenny mind an outrageous sum for clothes, Mrs. Lords merely signed the ledger the clerk presented her and told him to send the bill to the Thorpes (she nearly said Lords, but caught herself), not the new Norringtons.

"Consider it a wedding present, James. It is not often one marries off their firstborn daughter, I am allowed to be a little extravagant." Mrs. Lords said in reply to his pleas for him to foot at least some of the bill, and would hear no more of it after that.

James was finding out very quickly there was to be no arguing with the women of his wife's family.

-----

There was a flurry among the upper class of Port Royal for an invitation to the wedding of Mister James Norrington, which popular gossip had painted as the event of the year, a face James did not particularly like being added to his already hectic life. Meredith had taken to entertaining callers in the small back room of the store James normally used for business meetings, and the female chatter floated up front to coax his ears into eavesdropping when business was slow.

"What happened to Meredith Lords the Pirate?" James asked, once all the women had gone.

"I left her in the Bahamas with my breeches and my ship." Meredith said with a sarcastic edge. "Why do you ask?"

"I was only wondering. I was beginning to think she was only a distant memory, having been replaced by this demure, gossiping lady I see before me. I rather missed her, that is all." James said despondently.

"You liked Meredith the Pirate?" Meredith asked in the third person, to a sad nod by James. "I'll swing by and pick her up for the wedding night and we'll have a positively rowdy time together." The pirate captain assured him with a confident whisper, smiling.

"I like the sound of that." James said with his own roguish smile. "How many more days, darling?"

"Twelve." Meredith said with a quick peck to the cheek. "I've got to be off to confer with Mother on my flowers. Good-bye until dinner, dearest."

The twelve days ticked off with joyful anticipation until James woke up and realized, out loud to his empty and dark bedroom, "I am getting married today."

The words had meant so little to him when he'd told people the date of his wedding- I am getting married on the first of June. It seemed so much more finite, so much heavier now that he said 'today.'

Was he sure of what he was doing? Could he honestly spend the rest of his life with Meredith? Could she spend the rest of her life with him? He decided a hot cup of tea was in order- he needed to calm himself down a bit.

After he had dressed, and was just about to open his door when there was a great shuffling outside, and he just heard Mrs. Lords snap at him not to open the door.

"May I inquire why?" James asked, concerned, putting his ear to the door.

"Just wait till Meredith gets into the other guest room, James." Mrs. Lords squeaked brightly.

"Meredith's here? May I see her?" James asked with happy anticipation.

"NO!" Both Mrs. Lords and Meredith said quickly, and James heard a door shut with some finality. "Now you may come out, James." Mrs. Lords said, sighing.

"What was that about?" James asked, confused.

"Bad luck to have the groom see the bride on their wedding day until you're in the church, James." Mrs. Lords cautioned. James blinked, and nodded. _And I thought that was just sailors who were superstitious,_ he thought to himself, heading downstairs to get that cup of tea, feeling more than ever he would be needing something a bit stronger in it.

He had just reached for the bottom of irish whiskey one of the smugglers had brought him as a gift of some kind and which had, until a few moments ago, been collecting dust in the back of the wine hutch in the kitchen, when a voice behind him said "You really shouldn't be drinking this early in the morning. I know marriage is a trial, but it hasn't started, so you've no cause to be drinking just yet."

It was Mr. Lords, some of his pride taken off by the lack of his wig. James supposed it was still being repowdered and curled at the wigmakers. He looked at the bottle and sighed, putting it away.

"There's a good lad. Want to keep your wits about you this morning. And tonight, too- ship-rolling drunk is no way to greet your wife on your wedding night." Mr. Lords said sagely.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience." James said with a smile, sitting down at the table and sipping his tea. Philip Lords sat down as well, easing himself into the chair slowly and shaking his head no.

"Thank god for small favors, I wasn't drunk then. However, I was when I met Mrs. Lords, and I still for the life of me can't think of why she married me." He said blandly. James suppressed a chuckle.

"But I suppose that's a good thing, then. She's seen you at your worst and knows what she's getting." Mr. Lords continued. "Don't fret about it, James. Meredith's a smart girl- she knows what she wants, and how to get it, and she wouldn't have gotten herself in if she didn't think she could tolerate you."

James looked at him. "How did you know I was…" he trailed off, and Mr. Lords winked.

"Felt the same way before my wedding, lad. Now finish your tea and some breakfast and get upstairs- weddings don't wait for grooms, you know, and it's bad luck to be late for your own wedding!" he said cheerily.

"Bad luck seems to abound around weddings." James said somewhat sourly, watching the door close behind him.

-----

Don't be expecting any miracles when it comes to this next chapter…life as a senior is hard stuff! College applications and college visits and homework up the wazoo…


	14. Weddings? I Love Weddings!

Chapter 14

What, I told you senior year was hard work…

* * *

It was a lucky thing that the bad luck so often referenced that morning did not seem to lay itself upon those joyful heads that morning, and everything had gone just according to plan. Certainly one very superstitious person might consider the organist's few wrong, tipsy notes in the opening song the omen of a similarly incongruous and inconsistent marriage, but that thought was wasted on the happy couple, who seemed to be bathed in pure joy. James' ill will from an hour ago was gone, and his heart was nearly giddy at the thought that finally-- finally!-- Meredith would be all his. Her ring was sitting, slippery with his own sweat, in the palm of his hand, ready for her finger.

"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow." He recited, his hand shaking as he slipped the plain golden band over her finger-- her hands were just as warm and flushed as his were—and held her hands, watching her intently and waiting for the order that he had been longing to obey.

"You may now kiss the bride." The reverend said benevolently.

And he did. Probably a little shorter than he would have liked, but there would be time for that later. Their hands stayed clasped as they walked back down the aisle of the little church, the guests clapping over the music. A coach and four stood waiting outside the little church, and James helped Meredith in, signaling for the coachmen to carry them back to his house-- their house, now, oh happy thought!—so that the festivities might commence.

Their new maid- hired the week previous after a thorough interrogation by Mrs. Lords, Hannah and Henrietta- opened the door, and the smells of dishes too numerous and delicious to name swept over them, coming from the kitchen where a small army of cooks and scullions, hired for the occasion, were hard at work preparing the wedding banquet. Meredith charged upstairs to change clothes, but not before James had kissed her again in their foyer, properly and longer this time. "You're all mine now- mine and my own." He whispered in her ear. Meredith smiled and pulled away from him.

"And I won't forget it, James." She said with a rogue little smile, pulling away and going up the stairs, leaving James to oversee the preparations until she returned to shoo him amicably away from the kitchen.

Who had any idea that the house could hold so many people! The guests kept coming and coming, greeting the newlyweds and adding gifts to the steadily growing pile near the door, listening to the music and dancing. When Meredith finally emerged from the kitchen to announce that dinner was ready, she was greeted with a cheer and a kiss from her husband.

After dinner- plates and plates of sumptuous food that carried the spice of the islands with it along with the longstanding English tradition- there was more dancing. James and Meredith presided over the room like a king and queen holding court, socializing and laughing with friends and relatives. Meredith's father asked her for a dance, and James watched her go, smiling at her smile. When the dance was over he lost sight of her, and then someone else caught his attention.

"Gilette!" he called, and the former lieutenant- he was now a captain, James noted, as the epaulette on his shoulder would attestt- came over, shaking hands and laughing.

"It's been a while, James. How have you been keeping?"

"Oh, fair." James said noncommittally, and there was a pause before the two men laughed.

" Fair's hardly the word, for a newly married man! What are you doing now? I haven't seen you at the Admiralty." The captain said with a level of concern.

"I'm in the merchanting line, Gilette. I gave up on the Navy. It was safer." James confessed.

Gilette smiled. "Anything to do with the wife?" He asked, pointing to Meredith, dancing with a young man James didn't recognize.

"Everything to do with the wife." James enunciated, watching her and her unknown partner with a fondness.

Gilette chuckled. "How did you two meet, anyway?" he asked, interested. James stopped, unable to think of something better than "Oh, yes, well, she sank my ship and kept me prisoner for several months and then I fell in love with her," so took the most ambiguous line possible.

"It was over a matter of mutual interest." He said with a smile, and Gilette nodded.

"Not going to tell, you rascal? Well, keep your secrets then. I was only wondering if I could find one of her somewhere for myself."

James laughed. "Search away, my friend, search away. You won't find another like her in the whole world."

The dance finished, Meredith came back, escorted by the young man. As they drew closer, James' expression darkened.

"Mr. Turner." He said flatly, keeping his face as neutral as possible while taking Meredith's hand. Hell take that man for both making it onto the guest list and making the time to actually come!

"Mr. Norrington, I thank you for the pleasure of dancing with your wife." The young blacksmith said calmly, bowing and turning to leave.

"Will, where've you been?" Elizabeth asked, breezing up, resplendent as she always seemed to be in honey damask. She pulled up a little short, seeing Norrington, and quickly curtseyed. "Mr. and Mrs. Norrington. Congratulations to you both." She added quickly, smiling at Meredith and pointedly not looking at James.

" I was having a dance with the bride, Elizabeth. I hope, Mr. Norrington, I can afford you the same honor at my own wedding." He said with a little smile, taking Elizabeth's hand in his own. James nodded congenially.

"I look forward to the occasion." He said with a little smile, feeling Meredith's hand close tighter around his own. The young couple went away, and James sat down, a little melancholy.

"James, we promised to forget about that." Meredith whispered, reminding him as she sat down again beside him. James took a heavy drink from his glass and sighed.

"I only wish…" James began. Meredith looked at him threateningly, daring him to finish.

"What, James, you only wish what?" she asked, her demure veneer slipping off quicker by the second.

"I only wish you hadn't invited them!" James said in exasperation. "And I sincerely wish you hadn't danced with him."

Meredith's bristles relaxed. "He's a terrible dancer, if you must know." She confided in him. After several moments of silence between them, she smiled a little and pulled him to his feet as the quartet struck up a reel. "Come, let us show Miss Elizabeth what she is missing." She said spiritedly, nearly dragging him to the dance floor. James could not help but laugh as they were pulled into the line of dancers, skipping gaily.

After all the guests had gone home and the laughter and music had faded from the house, Meredith and James sat in the sitting room, opening the sizable stack of gifts.

Meredith put her hand on a wooden, carven box, the next in the pile, opening it up. "No, wait!" James said quickly. Meredith stopped, and looked at him quizzically. "That's my gift to you. I wanted you to open it later." He explained.

Meredith nodded, and put it aside. "Look! Monogrammed silverware!" James said, wanting to change the subject quickly, opening one of the boxes and holding it up to the light. He squinted for a moment, and then frowned. "Oh, that's curious. It's the wrong initials. HBH. I wonder who would mix up such a thing--there's no card."

"Oh, that was probably one of mine." Meredith said offhandedly. "They are constantly mixing things up. Very hurried people, my family. Here, we'll leave it blank on the list."

James looked up. "List?" he inquired.

"Yes, I'm making a list. For thank you notes." Meredith said.

James smiled and sighed. "Could I have found a better woman in the entire world?" He asked rhetorically, gazing happily at her.

"No, James, I don't think you could have." Meredith supplied for argument's sake.

"And now she's all mine." James said with subdued joy.

"Not quite all yours, Monsigneur." A voice said in heavily French-accented English. James looked up to behold a blond giant, glaring angrily at the two of them. How had he gotten in? Perhaps the door was not locked. He had a curious mess of scars running over his cheek and up into part of his forehead, as if he had been cut with a great deal of shrapnel. The eye on that side of his face was covered as well. James stood up, holding out his hand, hoping to make the best of a bad situation.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure, Master…" he trailed off, hoping the man would finish the sentence. He didn't. instead, he turned to Meredith.

"Well, my dove? Why don't you introduce me to this man? Or don't you recognize me?" the blond thundered.

James looked at Meredith, who was nearly mute with fear. In a quavering voice, she managed two small words.

"Hello, Antoine."

Anyone remember who he is? No? well, you'll have to go find out, then. There's a very subtle joke about another one of my favorite sea-going characters in this chapter- Pastry to anyone who can figure out what it is.


	15. An Unwelcome Houseguest

Chapter 15

Well, it's all downward from here…

* * *

The blond giant laughed. "So she does remember me, my little wife. Why do you not come to greet me like a good wife does when her husband comes back to her after a long time apart? And it has been a long time, my dove."

"She is not your wife, Girondan. She has never been your wife. She is mine." James said, sounding a lot braver than he felt, standing up facing this imposing man.

Antoine turned to James with a smirk. Though James was not a short man, he felt it beside the broad shoulders of the Frenchman. "So she has told you about us, then. But apparently she has not told you enough. She did not tell you we were married?"

"She told me enough to know she no longer wanted you when you broke trust with her." James said coldly.

Antoine laughed again. " You are referring to that incident with Marie-Celeste, Gabrielle?" he asked, advancing on Meredith.

She recovered enough of her composure and her temper to remark darkly, "I was referring to the incident with the _whore._"

Antoine's eyes flashed, and his hand lashed out, slapping her cheek as he shouted something at her in French. Meredith cried out, holding her face- there was a little trickle of blood there where a ring from his hand must have cut her. James was livid.

"Do not lay another hand on my wife, sir, or I shall call you out!" he said hotly.

"As I have already mentioned, monsieur, she is my wife already, and cannot be yours. She did not tell you of that, then? I see by your expression you are confused." Antoine stepped gingerly over the opened boxes to sit in James' vacated seat.

He made to cover Meredith's hand with his own in a loving fashion, as if they were husband and wife, but the woman withdrew the appendage as though it were about to be bitten. "Several years ago- how many is it now, Gabrielle, seven, eight?- I made the acquaintance of a remarkable young woman, a commander of her own vessel, a captain of both man and machine. I fell in love with her, rare and wild as she was, and she with me. But as you must know yourself, Monsigneur, sometimes the company of one's wife is not as pleasurable as one would like it to be, and one wishes for something …_deeper_ than mere sighs and admissions of affection." Antoine said suggestively, smiling in a rakish manner.

"So one seeks out more pleasurable company. There are many women I know, poor bored ladies, who would be happy to have me, knowing me to be much better than their husbands. And how can I refuse to help them, when I know how happy I can make them with a few hours of my time?" he asked with a shrug, helping himself to the glass of port on the table between himself and Meredith. "But _ma belle jeune capitane_ was not so understanding, you see, and she became angry with me when she found out. She threw a bottle at me- was it red wine, or white, Gabrielle?"

"It was red. And it looked like blood running down your treacherous face." Meredith said viciously. Antoine laughed, and continued.

"All the better to have matched the blood in your own face, Gabrielle, and the fire in your eyes." He said tenderly. "So was she displeased, and after, she left me, with a bleeding face and more noticeable scars than the ones on my face." He pointed to the white cuts over the right side of his face and forehead.

"You have not mentioned a marriage, sir." James said through clenched teeth, rather short of patience at the moment.

"Oh, you impatient fool, I am getting there. It was the night of her birthday when we first made love. On her ship- how romantic, she says. In the dark hours of the morning, she takes my ring, and puts it on her finger. 'See, now, we are married.' I council her no, and take the ring away. 'In the morning we will hear mass, and then we will be married,' I say. But she is not Catholic, and the church will not enter her name on the deed. So we say our own prayers, and I give her back the ring she took, and in our hearts, we are married." Antoine said. "I have traveled around the world many times, and there are peoples who do it thus in every corner of _le monde_. I have considered it binding. Besides, that, I have reflected, we were two captains, and a captain can perform a marriage aboard their own ship. So you see, Monsigneur, that your wife is now a bigamist, and, as I know her ways, other things I will not stoop to mention…"

"I will not be called a fool in my own house, and I will not allow my wife to be implied a harlot. That is twice now you have insulted me, and I will not suffer a third. Now draw!" James said, flashing out his own sword.

Antoine rose from the chair. "I do not think, Monsigneur, that you realize with whom you are fighting. From the time I could hold a sword, I have dueled. And won. Gabrielle will tell you." He said, motioning vaguely to Meredith.

"The only sword I ever saw you fight with was the one in your breeches, bastard." Meredith spat.

"Such language, Gabrielle. When I have killed this poor fool- see, I call you fool again, Englishman- I will beat your bad habits out of you. That is the only way of it, Englishman, to beat them. Or confine them in childbed. Women are headstrong creatures, and disobey easily. When you keep them helpless, then they obey." With careless grace he drew his sword, and as soon as he had shouted "En garde!" James lunged with the blade, causing Antoine to step aside.

Attack, parry, counterattack, riposte. So it continued, James on offensive and Antoine on the defensive. It was not a large room, and there was little space to retreat and advance, so they circled, like hawks over a carcass.

"You fight like Gabrielle, Englishman. Thrust for thrust. You never try harder than I do." Antoine's eyes glittered maliciously at the innuendo. And so it went. His insults made James fight all that much harder, abandoning strategy for sheer willpower. And slowly, he began to slacken, enough at one point for Antoine to knock the sword from his hands.

"See, Englishman, I have beaten you. And now you will take your defeat like a woman- on your back." Said Antoine, advancing on him, sword pointed at his heart. Norrington lay there, every muscle in his body tensed, steeling himself for the fatal blow. But it didn't come. From behind the Frenchman there was a loud thud, and Antoine fell forward, making James roll out of the way in order not to get pinned by the unconscious body. The culprit was wearing a long black coat, and a rather odd hat. James squinted. He knew he'd seen that hat before. Surely not….

Sure enough, Jack Sparrow stood there, somewhat cleaner than his normal self, but still quite scruffy by this party's standard, and like the devil himself, scowling in that, odd, monkeyish manner of his. In his hands he held a heavy candlestick, which he had (one could surmise) used to knock Antoine unconscious.

"Serves you right for what you did to my cousin. Bastard." He said, spitting on the body.

"What on earth are you doing here?" James hissed, trying not to lose his temper. Jack, however, ignored him and smiled at Meredith.

"Sorry I couldn't get here earlier, Coz. I'd been following this scum since I saw his ship in the harbor- knew he was up to something fishy. Wasn't going to interfere until I saw your knight in Navy costume over here had lost his sword." He turned to Norrington and grinned apologetically. "I was still rooting for you, mate." He added, turning back to the pile of gifts. "Ahah! See my gift made it all right. I hope they're the right kind, I didn't stop to check. The silverware." He added for James' benefit. _That would explain the monograms, then_, James noted to himself. _But I still don't understand why he's here…_ The pirate gave Meredith a kiss on the cheek. James could only be stunned, lying on the floor. Then he remembered something.

"…Coz?" he managed.

Meredith hid her smile and got up from her chair. "Mr. Norrington, I'd like you to meet my cousin, Jack Sparrow. My mother's sister's son."

James nodded mutely, allowing the pirate to pull him up and then shaking Jack's hand feebly, his own having gone quite limp.

Meredith leaned onto his shoulder, whispering. "I told you when you first met me pirate was in my blood. It's a family business, really. I didn't want to tell you earlier and loose the most perfect man in my life." She apologized.

James nodded, still taking all of this in. "So I suppose the silverware is stolen?" He rasped, swallowing his surprise. Jack nodded quickly.

"It's a family joke." Meredith said with a shrug. "What do you propose we do with him?" she asked, pointing to Antoine, still lying on the floor. Jack perked up, held up his hands for silence, and whistled. From outside came the sound of footfalls, and soon there were no less than a dozen of Jack's crew jostling for room in the entryway.

At the sight of Meredith, they all tipped their hats, mumbling congratulations.

"Why don't we take this sad excuse for a pirate outside and show him the lay of the land, fellas?" Jack said. The crew picked up Antoine, still out cold, and carried him through the door. "And maybe we'll deprive him of …some excess baggage along the way." Jack said, studying the dagger he pulled from Antoine's belt and winking at Meredith, who let loose a short laugh at what they might do to him.

James watched them go, somewhat weak in the knees. Marriage was enough for one day, but he'd had familial ties, forgotten marriages and stolen goods dropped in his lap in the last hour, and he was beginning to show some strain.

"Perhaps it's time for you to go to bed, darling. You look worn." Meredith said, shoving him gently in the direction of the stairs. "I will see to it everything gets cleaned up."

Like the living dead, James trooped up the stairs, throwing off his wedding finery and climbing into bed in his nightshirt. He listened to Meredith bustling around downstairs, just ready to close his eyes when he heard her trudging up the stairs.

"I waited for you before I feel asleep." James said. "Didn't want you to think I was going to rudely abandon you on our wedding night." He added sleepily, watching her undress from under heavily lidded eyes much more carefully than he had, laying aside her stockings and garters and all of her undergarments except her chemise in a neat pile, then picking up his clothes and doing the same before climbing under the coverlet with him and snuggling in close with a contented sigh. "I'm too tired to be much of a partner." He mumbled.

"Just sleep, James. We'll have plenty of time for that later." Meredith said in a comforting tone, and James felt more at home in his own bed than he had in months.

* * *

For those of you who haven't spent a lot of time in my head lately- and that's all of you- the initials HBH are supposed to stand for Horatio and Barbara Hornblower. At the end of the series of books by C.S. Forester, Horatio is made Admiral of the West Indies Squadron, thereby making it probable (if not possible) that Jack would have been able to steal his silverware.

Ian: You geek.

Review?


	16. The Captain and the Commodore

Chapter 16

Something funny before I finish.

* * *

James yawned loudly and turned over in bed, his arm hitting another human's as he did so. Meredith? What was Meredith doing here? Oh, yes, now he remembered. They had been married yesterday. He kissed her, smiling as she slept on, mindless of his kiss. 

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked sleepily as he opened the door to go downstairs and start the fire so he could brew a strong pot of coffee and recover his wits. Garishly nasty stuff, coffee, but it woke you up like a shot. "It's your honeymoon, James. You're supposed to be _enjoying_ yourself, and I recall doing precious little of that last night." She added cattily, sitting up in bed, fidgeting with her chemise underneath the sheets.

James turned back to his bed, raising an eyebrow innocently. "Whatever do you mean, Meredith? I slept beautifully and enjoyed that."

"I was speaking of other enjoyments you might have pursued, _mon capitaine_…" Meredith purred, crooking a finger at him. "Come back to bed."

"Gladly, my pirate queen." James said with a smile. His sleep recovered, his senses could wake up much faster with Meredith than any number of cups of coffee. He drew his robe off his shoulders and tossed it over a chair back, climbing over his side of the bed and underneath the sheets to fix her hips under his own. "It is not too early to be asserting my marital rights, I should hope?" He asked rhetorically, pulling Meredith's chemise above her hips just a little farther than what she had already done herself.

"If I had thought that, James, I would not have invited you back to bed." Meredith murmured, her hands holding James' nightshirt. He was just beginning to pillow down inside of her when there was a loud flurry of knocks at the front door.

"Hell and damnation, what is it?" James shouted in consternation, mindless of his language, getting out of bed and yanking his robe back on and going out on the landing just in time to see a dozen marines beat open his front door and invade his front hall. "What is the meaning of this?" he shouted, watching still more marines start poking through his downstairs. Commodore Garrett, perfectly uniformed and bewigged, strode through the wrecked entranceway and tipped his hat to Norrington, who was now acutely aware he was in a robe and hadn't had the opportunity to shave yet this morning.

"Commodore, what is the explanation for this?" James inquired sharply, wincing at the sound of clanging pots and pans from the kitchen.

"I've just been informed that there is a dangerous criminal hiding in your house, Mr. Norrington. A pirate by the name of Lords. Apparently, she has been here in Port Royal for several weeks under an assumed name." Garrett said mirthlessly, beckoning for the Marines to search upstairs just as Meredith came out on the landing, her own dressing robe tied tight around her waist.

"What's happened? Has someone been robbed?" she asked, looking around at the marines.

"That's the woman, men! Seize her!" Garrett pointed to the landing.

"Belay that order! Commodore, I demand to see your warrant." James asked. Garrett sighed and came upstairs, handing over the parchment, heavy with it's wax seal and signatures. James looked it over, notary-like, and handed it back. "You agree that it is in order, then, _Mister_ Norrington?" Garrett asked testily, punching at the point that James no longer had any political power to heft here.

"Well, I can't argue with its veracity, but, ah, I am afraid you have the wrong woman." James said coolly with the slightest of smiles.

"Wrong woman? Her likeness has been sent to every outpost in the Caribbean! I should think, sir, that I would know my own criminal!" Garrett blustered indignantly.

"Oh, indeed, Commodore, I do not doubt your authority on these matters, but I believe you are mistaken in this one instance." He crooked a finger at the nearest marine, who stepped forward grudgingly. "Downstairs there will be a large pile of packages. There was a wooden chest nearest to the top. Pray bring it to me." James asked with a smile. The private glanced at his commander, who flung his hand in an offhand, annoyed manner as if to shoo him away.

Moments later, the soldier came back, box in hand. James nodded, taking it from him and opening it to present a piece of parchment to Garrett. "A full pardon for the lady in question." James said seriously.

Garrett looked at the paper and frowned. "But this is a marriage certificate." He looked up at James, who smiled.

"I think you will find, however, that your warrant is still in error. This is Meredith _Norrington._ Commodore Garrett, I would like you to meet my new wife."

The new commodore stood in the foyer, seething and unsure of what rout to take next. "Be that as it may, sir, she is still wanted for crimes against the crown!" Garrett nearly shouted, his face turning red.

"Legally, however, her name has changed. Your warrant does nothing here. And lest you forget, Commodore, my name still carries more sway in high places than yours does." James added with a condescending smirk. "If you do not mind, you are interrupting my honeymoon, and, I might add, upsetting my wife. Good day, gentlemen- the door is that way."

Garrett fumed, stomping down the stairs and ordering the marines out after him. The last one closed the door with a bit of a snap, leaving the house ruffled, but quiet once more.

Meredith looked at the door and the now empty house, and turned back to James. "That was terribly clever of you, James. But like you told Commodore Garrett, we are on our honeymoon- shouldn't we be getting back to bed?"

"I'm not sure I want to go back to bed after all this." James said offhandedly with a smile that showed he clearly thought otherwise.

"I've just thought of a wonderful game for us to play." Meredith said with a smile, tugging him down the hall. "Let us pretend that I am the Commodore, and you are the pirate captain I have just captured." She tugged the sash from her robe and began winding it around his wrists. "And now you're going to beg me for clemency, so that I will spare you from the gallows."

James cocked an eyebrow. "The Captain and the Commodore, mm?" he asked as she dragged him away with her.

Meredith nodded, opening the door back to their bedroom. "I think I like this game already." James said with a smile as the door shut with a snap.

* * *

OH, goodness, it's over. 

Ian: Until the next Pirates movie, you mean.

Something like that…


End file.
